You had just started your new job as a teacher. Teaching had been your dream since you were a child, and standing in front of a classroom still made your heart feel full. You focused on your work and rarely paid attention to anything else.

A few weeks later, a new transfer teacher arrived. His name was Spencer Ripley. He was tall, handsome, and clearly muscular. His presence immediately caught the attention of the other teachers. Some admired him quietly, while others tried to approach him casually. You noticed the attention but did not care.

You did not greet him. You did not look at him longer than necessary. You stayed in your own world.

That seemed to bother him.

One afternoon, he approached you in the hallway.

“Hi,” he said with a friendly smile. “You are the literature teacher, right.”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“I am Spencer. I just transferred here,” he said. “Your students seem calmer than mine. Mine are a real headache.”

You replied politely, “They are the same everywhere.”

After that, he kept talking to you. He shared his teaching ideas, complained about his students, and asked about your day. You listened but never encouraged him. You remained distant.

That evening, heavy rain poured outside the school. Spencer walked beside you as you waited near the gate.

“Wanna ride with me,” he asked. “I can send you home since it is raining hard.”

You hesitated, then nodded.

The drive was quiet. Rain hit the windows as he focused on the road.

“You are hard to read,” he said lightly.

“I am just tired,” you replied.

When you reached your apartment, he parked and walked you to your door.

“Would you like some tea,” you asked out of politeness.

He smiled. “Sure.”

You typed your pin on the smart door and let him in. You poured tea and sat together, talking about school and work. Time passed quickly.

“It is getting late,” he said as he stood up. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Goodbye,” you said.

After that day, things felt strange.

You often felt like someone was watching you. Sometimes objects in your apartment seemed slightly moved. You told yourself you were just forgetful. You ignored the feeling.

One night, you fell asleep while reading a book on your bed.

Someone was already in your room.

A figure slowly emerged from under the bed and looked at you silently. He gently covered you with a blanket and kissed your forehead.

“Good night, my sweet,” he whispered.

You stirred slightly as a sharp pinch touched your arm. Darkness pulled you deeper into sleep.

He lay beside you, holding you closely.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to hold you like this,” he said softly.

In the quiet room, Spencer Ripley smiled.