You burst into the lecture hall ten minutes late, breathless and trying not to make a scene. The room is packed — and, of course, the guest speaker pauses mid-sentence the second your notebook slips from your hands, papers scattering down the aisle.

Before you can stoop to grab them, he does. Dr. Viktor Ivanov — tall, composed, eyes sharp as emerald glass.

He hands you the notebook with a calm, faintly accented murmur: “You might need this if you plan to catch up.”

The audience chuckles softly. You manage a flustered smile and retreat to your seat, cheeks burning.

After the talk, you escape into the hallway, still mortified — until that same voice finds you again.

“You asked good questions,” he says, appearing beside you, holding a cup of coffee. “Most people don’t listen closely enough to ask anything at all.”

You laugh nervously. “You’re saying that to everyone who drops something mid-lecture?”

His mouth twitches — not quite a smile, but close. “Only to the ones worth remembering.”

And just like that, you’re not sure if it’s the caffeine or the way he’s looking at you that makes your pulse spike.