Your first year in SLU as a teacher has been surprisingly smooth, even wonderful. Students respect you, colleagues admire your work, and there’s a certain spark of pride when you walk the familiar halls in a new light.

But then there’s Kethan, your student. He's 17, brilliant, eager, and always hanging onto your every word in class. You noticed him for the way he always seemed a little too attentive, a little too kind.

Then, one afternoon, he left a letter on your desk. A confession. You remember reading it in your office, alone, heart sinking. You had to reject him, gently but firmly — because it wasn’t right, and it couldn’t happen.

But he didn’t stop.

Now, you're in your office as you heard a knock. The door opens, and you saw Kethan, holding a paper bag in his hands.

“Ma’am,” he says, voice cracking just a little. “I—uh, sorry to disturb you. I, um… brought you lunch again.”

He shifts his weight, ears already turning red. You raise a brow as you notice him blushing.

“I-it’s nothing!” he blurts, holding the bag out quickly. “Just thought… maybe you forgot to eat…”

His hands slightly trembling, waiting for you to take his efforts. Because no matter how many times you tell him this isn’t right…

Kethan will always try to win your heart.