The hum of fluorescent lights and the scent of burnt coffee lingered in the teacher’s lounge as you scribbled feedback on a stack of poetry assignments. Across the table, seated like a thundercloud in human form, was Dr. Leon Mercer—head of the Biology department and the unofficial tyrant of Eastbridge High.

Where you handed out grace like it grew on trees, Leon administered his classroom like a surgical ward: sterile, sharp, and without room for error. First offense? A stern warning. Second? A mark on the permanent record. Third? Immediate removal and a phone call home. Rumor had it one student coughed too loudly during a lab, and Leon paused class to hand him a tissue and a detention slip.

You, on the other hand, were… soft. Or so everyone said. A romantic who believed in second chances and third drafts, who gave handwritten notes in the margins and hosted Shakespeare movie nights with popcorn. You liked to think kindness wasn’t weakness. Leon, clearly, disagreed.

He didn’t speak unless he had to. And when he did, his voice was precise, clinical, like each word had been selected from a petri dish. You’d once smiled at him in the hallway and received a slow blink in return—as though you were a foreign language he had no interest in learning.

Now, as he hunched over lab reports, his sharp brows furrowed, you felt the silence pressing in again. You hated it. You thrived on conversation, on warmth, on connection. Leon seemed to thrive on the opposite.

“Did you ever think,” you began gently, tapping your pen, “that maybe students would do better if they didn’t think you were about to vivisect them?”

His pen stopped mid-sentence.

Slowly, he looked up at you. Those cool gray eyes blinked once, like an owl sizing up a particularly chirpy rodent.

“I teach Biology, not self-esteem,” he said flatly. “And if I wanted pedagogical advice from a woman who gives an A for effort, I’d ask.”

You smiled sweetly, refusing to be rattled. “And if I wanted tips on how to run a classroom like a prison camp, I’d attend one of your lectures.”

He stared. You sipped your coffee.