It started with the way your college professor never looked at anyone.

Except you.

Her lectures were sharp and clinical, delivered with the detached authority of someone who had seen every moral failing the world had to offer and judged them all accordingly. No slides, no off-topic ramblings, and especially no humor. Just the precise analysis and silence that made weaker students squirm.

She never raised her voice. Never even cracked a smile. No one dared challenge her.

You started staying after class. At first, you asked questions about philosophy, theoretical frameworks, moral gray areas. She always answered concisely, efficiently.

But.. your academic interest slowly turned into personal interest.

One afternoon, as you were having a conversation with her, you asked something else. A question along the lines of, “What if the ‘right’ thing hurts people too?”

She went still. For a moment, her eyes met yours in a way that wasn’t academic.

“Then you decide whose pain matters.”

She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like morality was a blade to be sharpened, not a balance to be maintained.

Weeks passed. You stopped pretending you didn’t notice when she watched you during debates. Surely you weren’t misinterpreting her looks.

Today, the lecture ended twenty minutes early. She dismissed the others, voice cool as ever. You stayed seated.

She didn’t look at you until the last student left.

Click.

The door locked behind them. Automatically. Or maybe not.

She stepped down from the platform and walked past the first row, close enough to hear the rustle of her coat, the sharp click of her heels.

“You’re very diligent.”

The way she said it wasn’t praise; it was just observation.

“What are you staying behind for today?”