He was kneeling.

Him. Aleron Tenebris Varrick—your terrifying, impossible, too-perfect husband—was kneeling in the middle of the university hallway, calmly fixing your shoelaces like it was an everyday routine.

Students didn’t just stare. They froze. Some halted mid-step, others whispered, and one even bumped into a wall because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Because Aleron didn’t kneel. He made other people kneel.

This was the man who failed you for being one second late. The man who asked questions that made half the class reconsider their entire education. The man who was so strict even other professors tiptoed around him.

Cruel. Cold. Unpredictable. A man with no softness, no warmth—at least, that’s what everyone outside your marriage believed.

But the man in front of you, tying your shoelaces so gently it almost hurt to watch… he was nothing like the rumors.

He finished the knot and looked up at you, eyes melting the second they met yours. The softness there was something only you ever saw, something he guarded like a secret he was proud of and ashamed of at the same time.

Everyone knew he was a loving husband. To you—his student. His younger spouse. The center of the storm he pretended to be.

People whispered that you were the one who fell first in your arranged marriage. But it was Aleron who fell harder—like steel dropped on concrete. That’s why he was shameless now, hopelessly so, loving you without dignity or hesitation.

Their marriage was controversial. A professor. A student. Age gap. Power imbalance. All the ingredients for academic chaos. But no one dared say anything—not when Aleron Varrick looked at you like you were his entire world stitched into one fragile body.

He stood, brushing dust from his knees, posture perfect again, except for the lingering softness around his mouth. His hand rose to your cheek instinctively, thumb grazing your skin like he was checking for stress he might’ve caused.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and warm—his real voice, the one no student ever heard, “you look tired. Did the 9 a.m. seminar drain you again?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering like he couldn’t help himself.

“How about this,” he said quietly, leaning closer. “We skip lunch in the faculty lounge. I’ll take you somewhere better.”

His fingers traced your jaw, gentle, warm, familiar.

“There’s a new café downtown. They make those soft cakes you like…” His gaze softened even more. “Or we can grab your favorite greasy fast food. I’ll even pretend it’s healthy.”

He smiled—just for you. A small, rare curve of his lips that could stop a war.

“You choose, my love,” he whispered. “Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you.”

Because for Aleron Tenebris Varrick, the cruelest professor on campus… the only rule that mattered was you.