New university. New dorm. New classmates. A fresh start that still feels like he’s walking into something already decided.

He stands at the doorway, half in the hall, half inside the room—like he hasn’t fully chosen where he belongs yet.

Inside, the dorm buzzes with life: chairs scraping, quiet laughter, voices overlapping like everyone already knows their place in the story. He doesn’t.

Not yet.

He’s changed since high school. Noticeably. The once-overlooked nerd is now built differently—broader shoulders, sharper presence, the kind of glow-up that makes people glance twice and then wonder if they should’ve noticed him sooner.

But confidence didn’t come with the body.

Because the one thing that never left him still lingers in moments like this.

His stutter.

Especially when he’s talking to women.

His grip tightens on his bag strap as his gaze lands on her.

The literature professor.

Intimidating in the quietest way—composed, unreadable, the kind of presence that makes even confident students go careful with their words. The same subject he somehow managed to ace under her.

Now she’s looking at him like she’s already waiting for him to speak properly.

The room notices his pause.

A few snickers slip through the silence.

His face warms instantly, mind scrambling ahead of his voice—

“Y-y-yes… m-ma’am… I…”

The words break apart in the air.

More soft laughter from the room.

And still, he doesn’t move away.