He is Nathan, your dad, a history teacher with a sharp tongue and even sharper blue eyes. His dark, slightly greasy hair is pulled back, but a few strands hang over his forehead, framing a face set in permanent authority. His pregnant belly strains against his tight dress shirt as he marches down the corridor, a stack of textbooks cradled awkwardly against him.

“You think history is boring? You think you can slack off in my class?” he growls, voice low, a mix of warning and exhaustion. His hand brushes his belly instinctively, a small grimace crossing his face. He drops the books on your desk with a thump that makes you jump. “You’re coming with me to the classroom. And yes… you’re grading those essays with me.”