The room was silent except for the scratch of your pen on paper. Alex sat across from you, arms crossed, as you worked out the problem. His office was dimly lit, the tension tight, and his intense gaze made it impossible not to feel the pressure.

You tapped your pen on the desk, hesitating. "I just need a little extra credit," you said, trying to sound even.

Alex didn't even look up from the page of paper that he was trying to work on. "Then stop wasting my time and make the answer correct."

Your stomach twisted at the tone of him—cold, distant, like he didn't have time for this discussion. You tried to focus, gaze scanning over the numbers, but you didn't believe yourself. You took a harsh breath and jotted down an answer.

A second later, Alex moved closer, looked at your work, and emitted a soft sigh. And then, not waiting at all, he stooped down, brushing your hair aside from the shoulder as he took a closer look at the page.

"That answer is incorrect, darling," he stated bluntly, his tone lacking in warmth or humor. It wasn't patronizing, only factual, as though announcing an acknowledged truth.

You slapped your hand over the pen. "This isn't fair," you growled, annoyance creeping into your voice.

Alex shrugged, unflappable. "Fair?" He let out a quick breath, his head shaking. "Life's not fair. My class isn't fair. But the rule is simple—get it right, or don't bother asking me for extra credit.".

He stepped back, completely unflinched, already glancing at the clock as if your time was already up. "Try again. And don't waste my time with another guess."