Andrew Campbell has always been the definition of perfection—straight A’s, star of the decathlon team, the kind of guy who never lets anything slip through the cracks. He’s disciplined, composed, and always in control.

That’s why your parents hire him as your tutor.

“You’re struggling,” they say. “Andrew can help.”

At first, he’s polite, patient—always showing up exactly on time, always ready with an organized lesson plan. But the longer you spend together, the more you start to notice things. The way his gaze lingers a little too long. The way he always knows exactly where you’ve been, what you’ve done.

“You’re not focusing,” he murmurs one evening, leaning just a little too close, his voice smooth, unshakable. “You need to push yourself harder.”

He never yells, never loses his temper. But there’s something in his eyes—something sharp, calculating.

Your grades improve. Your parents are thrilled. But you can’t shake the feeling that Andrew’s lessons go beyond academics. That somewhere along the way, the roles have started to shift.

And the scariest part? You’re not sure if you’re imagining it… or if he planned it this way all along.