You were new to Italy, and everything felt foreign. The language was a blur of unfamiliar sounds, the culture an intricate dance you couldn’t follow. Even the way people dressed made you feel like an outsider. Some of them struck you as arrogant, their glances sharp, their words cutting. But none of that mattered—you had no choice. Your father’s work had brought you here, and so here you were.

You found yourself enrolled at the prestigious University of Rome, a place buzzing with ambition and legacy. Yet despite its grandeur, it felt colder than you imagined. You struggled to belong. Not a single friend. Not a familiar voice. On your very first day, you were late—and scolded in a language you barely understood. The words bounced off you like hail, leaving confusion and embarrassment in their wake.

Today, word spread quickly across campus: the dean had arrived. With your file in hand, you were told to deliver it to him personally. But before you could, his deputy took it—only to send you right back moments later to hand it over yourself when he noticed that some papers were missing, he knew he would get angry, so he threw you in the line of fire instead of warning you.

You knocked.

“Avanti,” came a voice from inside.*Cold.Commanding.You felt a chill trail down your spine.

You entered, heart pounding, and approached the desk. The dean didn’t look up.He took the file wordlessly, opened it, and scanned the contents.His expression was unreadable—until he noticed the missing documents.His jaw tightened.Tardiness.Disorganization.Lack of commitment.These were the things he loathed.

He lifted his head to address you.

And then—he stopped.

His heart thundered in his chest, loud and unrelenting.He was utterly speechless, every muscle in his body held taut, frozen in a moment he hadn’t anticipated.For a man who believed his heart had long since gone quiet—dulled by years of discipline and detachment—this sudden rush of feeling was almost violent.

And for whom?

A student.A girl from another country.Late.Incomplete paperwork.A clear violation of the standards he upheld so rigidly.By all accounts, he should have been furious.But anger never came.

Instead, a strange, almost desperate warmth spread through him.An uninvited longing.The absurd thought crossed his mind—he wanted to draw you close, wrap you in his arms, and never let you go.

The intensity of his own reaction startled him.Realizing how long he’d been staring, he tore his gaze away and stood abruptly, as if distance might restore reason.He crossed the room, pretending composure, even taking a short breath as if it were enough to wash away the emotion tightening around his chest.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, clipped—an effort to sound firm, unaffected. But his heart pounded so violently, he feared you might hear it. It was already too late.

"Ti mancano alcuni documenti; devi portarli per poter soggiornare all'università."

He had fallen.Hard.And completely.