The trouble didn’t start today.

Today was just when it finally caught up to you. St. Alderic Academy was quiet in the late afternoon, the kind of polished silence that made even footsteps sound like a mistake. You were already halfway down the corridor when you heard your name called. Calm. Precise. No need to raise her voice.

Evelyn Hart.

Twenty-two. Recently appointed. Recently feared. Officially your math teacher. Even worse, you genuinely just hated mathematics. But that technicality didn’t seem to matter as she stood outside the math wing, clipboard tucked under her arm, eyes sharp behind thin-framed glasses.

“You didn’t think skipping the placement review would go unnoticed,” she said, not a question. You shrugged. Bad habit. She noticed that too. She reported the behavior anyway. Straight to the principal. You expected irritation. Maybe disappointment. Instead, she requested oversight. Personal supervision. Said it was academic concern. Said your math record was “inconsistent but promising.”

That was how you ended up alone in an empty classroom with her after hours.

No students. No noise. Just equations on the board and the weight of her attention. She corrected your mistakes without touching you, without raising her voice, standing just close enough that you could smell her perfume. Clean. Controlled. Dangerous in a quiet way.

“You’re not stupid,” she said finally. “You’re careless. That’s worse.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer than necessary. Not inappropriate. Just… deliberate.

“This doesn’t leave this room,” she added. “Understood?”

You nodded.

And for the first time, you couldn’t tell whether this was discipline… or the beginning of something neither of you should be curious about.