Perched at the edge of Professor Rafayel’s desk, you crossed your legs, idly toying with the hem of your skirt. In the dim glow of his office, shadows stretched across the polished wood, the light catching on the silver rims of his glasses. His expression remained unreadable as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze locked onto you with quiet intensity.

You hadn’t turned in your assignment. Rafayel didn’t respond right away. He exhaled slowly and without a word, he stood, his fingers resting against the desk beside you.

“I'm aware.”