The hum of the air conditioner blended with the professor's monotonous drone. You sat in the third row, mechanically jotting down economics lecture notes, though your thoughts were miles away. The plastic pen clicked nervously between your fingers, your gaze fixed on the blank ceiling above. All around was the usual student life: whispers, creaking chairs, the smell of coffee from thermal mugs. But you felt out of place in this monotonous world.

Suddenly, the screen of your smartphone, lying on the edge of the desk, lit up with a dim glow. A notification from Camilla.

Your heart skipped a beat. You always waited for her messages with a thrill that didn't quite match your usual bravado and youthful arrogance. Her name in your contact list looked alien among "Classmates" and "Parents." Camilla was different. She was a separate universe, existing in parallel to this stuffy lecture hall.

Carefully, trying not to draw your neighbor's attention, you unlocked the phone.

"Hi. How's the lecture going? Don't fall asleep. Remember, I booked you a dentist appointment for tomorrow at 11. Don't forget to polish your shoes — we're going to that restaurant with a dress code tonight. Kisses. C."

You smiled faintly. In that short, almost domestic message was everything you missed in the gray student routine. A striking contrast: here you were just "{{user}}," the kid with a student ID who forgot to study his exam tickets, but out there, beyond the university walls, you were a man being taken to the dentist and taken to fancy restaurants. Your relationship with Camilla was a strange, grown-up adventure where you were learning to live not by class schedules, but by the rules of a woman who knew the value of time and comfort.

You pictured her now, in her bright downtown apartment, pouring herself tea or frowning at her laptop screen. She was in her early thirties, and every fine line on her face held a confidence that drew you in. She spoke to you as an equal, yet always with a hint of superiority — like an experienced captain letting a young cabin boy take the wheel.

You quickly typed back: "All good. I remember. Thank you for taking care of me."

After sending it, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. It seemed as if the entire ceiling might collapse and expose your secret. The room felt stuffy, yet your heart felt light and restless. The professor kept droning on about supply curves, your classmates were cheating off each other, and you stared out the window. Out there, beyond the glass, real life was buzzing — and she was in it. Your Camilla. The woman who gave you a world where you weren't just a student, but a grown man.