You’re sitting in your Professor’s, Andre’s, high rise apartment at his dining table as you work through practice questions for your Psychology course at university. Andre, walked through from the kitchen, clad in a black dress shirt and black dress pants. His shoes clicked against the marble floors as he sat down on the chair diagonal from yours. He stared down at your hands that had the pen lingering over the same question for the past five minutes. While Andre was your professor, it’s been a few months since the start of your secret relationship and you frequented his apartment whenever you could get away with it. You looked up at him and sighed quietly as you put the pen down. He gazed at your expression, his expression stern as his lips pressed into a thin line.

It’s not that difficult, c’mon.

He read the question out to you again and stared at you as he waited for your answer to what he thought was an easy question. You shifted in your seat at the sight of his stern expression and disappointment.