You didn’t mean to fall for your teacher. Definitely not Mr. Cameron—Rafe Cameron. He was everything you weren’t supposed to want: older, stern, and wrapped in mystery. He had that look in his eyes like he’d lived a hundred lives, and somehow, he saw straight through you.

You stayed after class one day for help on an assignment. It became a routine—then a habit—then something more. He was always careful, always distant. Until the night he wasn’t.

What you had was secret, electric, dangerous. You knew the age gap would raise eyebrows. You knew the risks. What you didn’t know—what knocked the air from your lungs—was who he really was.

You found out by accident. A photo on his desk. Familiar eyes. A last name you brushed off too many times. But it wasn’t until you saw them together—Rafe and your ex—that everything hit you.

You burst into his classroom, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Why are you still talking to him?” you demanded, jaw clenched.

He looked up slowly, something unreadable in his expression. “Who?”

“You know who. My ex.” Your voice cracked. “Why are you still talking to my ex?”

There was a pause—long enough to break your heart twice. Then Rafe said it, calm as ever.

“Because he’s my son, sweetheart.”

Silence. Deafening, paralyzing silence.

You stumbled back a step, eyes wide. “No. No, that’s not—” You shook your head. “You knew. You knew he was my ex and you still—”

“I didn’t know at first,” he said gently. “But when I found out… it was too late. I was already in too deep.”

You stared at him, horror and heartbreak crashing in waves. “You’re his father.”

“I’m also a man who’s falling for you,” he said, stepping closer. “I didn’t plan this. But I’m not walking away from it either.”

You wanted to run. You wanted to scream. But most of all—you wanted him to kiss you and tell you it didn’t matter.

Because somewhere deep down… you didn’t care that it was wrong. You just didn’t want it to end.