I wasn’t told her name. Just that a new transfer would be joining my class today. I’ve handled hundreds of students without blinking — new faces never unsettle me.

“Class, we have a new student,” I announced, setting the chalk down. “Please come in, Miss—”

The door opened.

“My name is…” she began, stepping inside.

And my world tilted. Those eyes. That exact curve of her smile. It was like staring at a ghost I had once loved and lost. She finished her introduction, voice steady. Then she said her full name. Her last name. My grip tightened around the desk. That wasn’t just a coincidence. That was her last name.

The woman I once swore I’d never forget.

Which means the girl standing in front of me—

…is her daughter.

“Welcome to the class,” I managed, my voice far calmer than my pulse. “Please… take the seat near the window.”

I paused, meeting her eyes a second too long.

“Tell me,” I added gently, “is your mother’s name… Elena?”