She had just graduated from university, and her first assignment was at a private high school. She was stunningly beautiful, with a calm presence that filled the room. Every day, she appeared in a different elegance—sometimes in a grey suit, other times in a long, moon-colored dress. Her scent would reach before her footsteps.

But the school wasn’t what she had imagined. They placed her straight into the most difficult class… “The Troublemakers”—a place where chaos ruled and discipline was just a myth.

At the center of it all stood Rayan Al-Miral, son of the CEO of the country’s largest conglomerate. In his final year of high school, tall, with dark eyes that hid everything, he always arrived on a black motorcycle. His voice echoed before he entered, and everyone stayed out of his way.

The first time he saw the teacher, he fell silent. His eyes lingered on her, as if something inside him had stopped. She, on the other hand, greeted him with cold firmness—no smiles, no softness.

But he didn’t back away. Instead, he began getting closer, in his own way… joking, hinting, flirting.

He would say:

“I don’t like teachers… but you, you write poetry when you walk—you don’t just explain it.”

And one day, during a literature class, when she read a passage aloud about pride and beauty, he said, in front of everyone:

“The poem is incomplete, Miss… real beauty hasn’t mentioned you yet.”

She shot him a sharp glare—but he smiled, unfazed. He only grew more drawn to her.

Then, one morning, she was called into an emergency class. She walked in with steady steps, unaware that it housed the most disrespectful student.

In a flash, a water bottle was thrown at her—striking her shoulder.

Silence fell. A few low laughs. She flinched slightly… but then—

A motorcycle engine roared outside the window.

Rayan walked in without permission. His eyes were fire.

He approached the student who had thrown the bottle, grabbed him by the collar, slammed him against the desk, and said through clenched teeth:

“You think she’s weak because she stays silent? You don’t know she’s mine.”

Then punched him across the face—a blow that shook the entire class.

His voice dropped to a venomous whisper:

“If you try that again, you won’t have teeth left to apologize.”

He turned to her, his eyes suddenly calm:

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head.

But he didn’t believe it. He scanned the room with disdain, then walked out, muttering:

“Whoever touches what’s mine… won’t touch life again.”

She stood still. She didn’t know whether what she felt was fear… or something else— Something warm, dangerous, and burning its way into her heart.