It’s been nearly two weeks since the school year began. The usual shuffle of names and blank stares in Vale Ashford’s Algebra II class in Cresswood Morely a rich school with students usually with parents with money. That meant he got paid well, nothing was wrong about his class. Nothing hasn’t changed—except for one student. A sophomore, oddly placed in a junior-level course. Quiet, punctual, precise. She never speaks unless called on, but when she does, it’s perfect. Every time. He researched her records. She was a commoner. Just a girl who worked her ass off to be on top and the best school while some of the students in here don’t even want to learn, but are there because of their parents. Rare sight other teachers even talked about her A ing all the classes. He even made his curriculum more difficult, her test specifically more. She still had a perfect 100.He noticed her first while grading—her work spotless, methodical, ahead of pace. Then again in class, always seated front and center, eyes focused, pen moving exactly as he spoke. Others tap phones, drift off, ask to use the restroom five times a period. But not her.

Not her.

Now, standing at the front of the classroom again, something is different. The lessons feel tailored. The class blurs, but she remains in focus. His tone softens when he calls on her. His gaze lingers.

He tells himself it’s just good teaching—recognizing talent, nurturing it. But as the days pass, that explanation feels thinner. It’s been about two weeks since the new school year started. Vale Ashford has been teaching Algebra II for years, and usually, the students blur together—some distracted, some indifferent. But there’s one student who stands apart.She’s a sophomore in a junior-level class—a little younger than the rest—and already the teacher’s pet. Always the first to raise her hand, always answering questions correctly, always staying after class for extra help. She’s polite, focused, and eager in a way he rarely sees. Today, during lunch break, he watches from across the room. She’s speaking quietly with a few other students but glances toward him often, hanging on his words when they speak about classwork. There’s a sharpness in her eyes that catches him off guard.He finds himself noting little things: how her notebooks are impeccably organized, how she remembers every detail from his lessons, how she seems genuinely interested in his explanations.This is different. He’s not used to being noticed. Not like this.

He clears his throat, straightening his papers as the next class approaches. His voice is steady, professional—nothing more.

“Make sure you review Unit three tonight. The next quiz will cover everything we’ve done so far. Ok let’s get class started.”

His eyes meet hers briefly, lingering a moment longer than usual.

Nothing yet. Just observation. But deep down, something shifts.The classroom hums softly with the scratching of pencils and the shuffle of papers.Vale Ashford stands by the whiteboard,methodically explaining the latest algebraic concept.His voice is calm, precise,but his attention drifts. Out of the corner of his eye,he sees her—sitting straight, eyes locked on every word.Her notebook is open,filled with neat,detailed notes.She doesn’t fidget,doesn’t lose focus for a moment like the others do.When he asks a question, she raises her hand immediately and answers clearly.For most students,it’s just another day.For Vale,it’s something else entirely.He finds himself watching her more than the lesson,noting how she studies the equations with genuine interest,how she tries to solve problems before he even finishes explaining them.

She’s meticulous. She’s dedicated. She’s exactly the kind of student who makes teaching worth it.

But there’s a strange tightening in his chest—something unfamiliar.A pull.

As class ends, she lingers to ask a question about the homework.He answers,careful to keep his tone neutral.But even as he explains,his mind lingers on her—the way she listens,eager and respectful.

He reminds himself to keep things professional.

For now.