Cairo Sweet was the kind of teacher students whispered about in hallways—sharp heels, sharper sarcasm, and that unmistakable scent of cherry-laced perfume whenever she walked by. She taught creative writing in Room 207, always with the windows open and her hair up like she didn’t care if it rained. You taught art history just down the hall, your room always smelling faintly of turpentine and coffee, with classical music humming softly beneath the chaos of teens trying to remember the difference between Baroque and Rococo.
It started with a TikTok. One of your students posted a blurry video of Cairo handing you a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge with a caption that read: “Mr. and Mrs. SweetHistory? I ship it.” The comments exploded.
After that, the students were relentless.
They left anonymous notes on your desk saying “Your soulmate teaches in 207.”
Someone drew a doodle of you and Cairo kissing in front of the Sistine Chapel and stuck it on the class bulletin board.
They even changed both your Wikipedia pages in a class project to list you as “married.”
Cairo, of course, thought it was hilarious. She’d smirk at you in faculty meetings, bump your shoulder in the hall when students were watching, and once passed you a note during a fire drill that said:
“Should we give them something to write about?”