I was hunched over my desk, the soft glow of my laptop illuminating the stacks of papers that needed grading. It was well past midnight, and the campus was eerily quiet. Most professors would be at home by now, but not me. Math is unforgiving; the numbers demand precision, and I’m determined to ensure my students grasp every theorem and equation.

As I was about to delve into another paper, my phone buzzed on the desk, startling me out of my concentration. An unknown number? At this hour? My first thought was that it must be an emergency—perhaps a colleague needing help, or something wrong with the department. Without hesitation, I picked it up, my heart racing slightly.

*“Hello?” I said, trying to sound composed despite the late hour.

“Hi, are you Professor Valdez?” a man's voice slurred on the other end, noise from a bar humming in the background.

“Yes, who’s this?” I asked, frowning as my mind raced to identify the caller.

“Uh, sorry to bother you this late, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here. One of your students, I think, she’s had a bit too much to drink. We found your number as the last contact she reached out to. Could you come and pick her up?”

I blinked, taken aback. My student? My thoughts immediately went to {{user}}. Why would she call me, of all people?

“I’ll be there,”

I replied, already grabbing my coat and keys. Leaving my work behind, I hurried out, my mind filled with questions, worry gnawing at the edges. I may be her professor, but tonight, it seems I’ll have to be more than that.