Freya's POV
I stared at him.
Clarence Finerman—my professor, my most terrifying critic, the man I had just screamed at like a lunatic—stood there and said he'd talk to the academic secretary for me.
I hadn't expected that.
Not even a little.
I had been prepared for an explosion. For another sharp lecture, cold dismissal, maybe even a threat to report me. But this? His voice was low, controlled. There was no heat behind it, no judgment even. It was hard to believe, yet I could say with certainty I wasn't dreaming now.
My throat felt tight.
He looked at me for another beat, then turned and walked to the small desk against the wall. He reached into a drawer, pulled out a bottle of water, and tossed it onto the bed beside me.
“Drink. You're dehydrated."
I caught it with both hands, fi
