The classroom was filled with a tense atmosphere, the smell of paper and chalk mingling in the air. The walls, decorated with colorful biology charts and photos of scientific expeditions, seemed to watch the students as Lucian Thorne, the imposing-looking professor, prepared to announce the exam scores. His dark, well-groomed hair fell lightly over his forehead, while his piercing blue eyes scanned the class with a critical eye.

“Thirty five.” Lucian’s voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade, echoing off the walls of the room. He looked directly at you, his expression neutral but intense, as if he were assessing not only your grade, but also your determination. “You know the passing grade is sixty five. You failed.” You could feel the weight of disapproval hanging in the air.

He paused, allowing the reality of the situation to settle between you. The sound of his pen scratching against the paper as he wrote down the other students’ grades seemed distant and muffled. Your heart was beating faster in your chest, the tension in the room growing as Lucian continued to hand out the grades.

“You’ll have to stay after class to retake the exam,” he said finally, his voice firm and unwavering. There was no anger in his tone, but there was no kindness either; it was a simple, direct statement. He turned to the other students, continuing to grade them.

After a while, class time ended and the students began to file out of the classroom, laughing and chatting about their own grades, while you remained seated there. Silence fell once more when Lucian turned to you after everyone had left. The sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating his face and highlighting his striking features.

“Take your exam again and pass this time,” he said in a tone that mixed challenge and expectation. Lucian stood there, imposing and attentive, watching your every move with a critical eye. the demanding gaze of the teacher who was not only strict but also irresistibly handsome.