From his side
1201 Words
Episode 8
Alex pulled into the school parking lot at 1:40 PM, same as every Tuesday and Thursday.
He hated being late.
At 26, life had moved fast for him. Master’s degree done at 22. PhD done at 25. And now here he was, a part-time lecturer teaching Business Law to students barely younger than himself.
He wasn’t doing it for the money. His family owned Adebayo Holdings downtown — hotels, shipping, real estate. His father had already offered him the CEO position three times.
“I’m not ready to sit in a boardroom all day,” Alex had told him.
So instead he taught.
He did it because he wanted to see how the next generation thought. Wanted to see if any of them had fire in them. If any of them would challenge him.
His mornings were spent in his office downtown, going through contracts, mergers, and board meetings.
His afternoons were spent in classrooms like this one.
His evenings? Empty. He told people he liked it that way. No distractions. Just books, contracts, and the occasional black coffee he drank alone in his apartment.
He grabbed his briefcase, adjusted his watch, and walked toward the lecture hall.
He could already hear the noise from outside — girls laughing, whispering, squealing. Same thing every class.
He didn’t mind it. He wasn’t here to make friends.
He was here to teach. 45 minutes. In and out.
But the moment he pushed the door open and saw the back row, his steps slowed.
One girl wasn’t looking at him.
Everyone else was.
And for some reason, that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He told himself it didn’t matter.
Students tuned out all the time. But this was different.
The rest of the class tracked him with their eyes as he walked to the podium. Phones down. Notebooks open. The usual performance.
Except her.
She sat by the window, second row from the back. Oversized TIU hoodie with the sleeves pulled over her hands. A messy bun. One pen tapping against a notebook that was completely blank.
She wasn’t on her phone. Wasn’t talking.
She was just... staring out the window, like the lecture hall was the last place she wanted to be.
Alex cleared his throat. “Good afternoon.”
45 heads turned. 44 voices said “Good afternoon, Dr. Alex.”
The 45th didn’t.
He set his briefcase down a little harder than necessary.
“Alright. Business Law 301. Today: breach of contract.”
He started writing on the board, but his eyes kept flicking to the back row.
Who doesn’t look up on the first day?
Who doesn’t care?
And why did that make him want to call on her first?
He finished the first slide. “Can someone give me an example of breach of contract?”
Hands shot up in the front. Girls he knew by name already.
He ignored them.
His eyes scanned the room and landed on her again. Still staring out the window.
“Miss.”
No response.
“Miss in the hoodie. By the window.”
The whole class turned.
Tia blinked and looked at him like she’d just remembered where she was.
“Yes?”
“What’s your name?” Alex asked, keeping his voice even.
“Tia,” she said quietly.
“Miss Tia. Example of breach of contract.”
She paused for half a second. Then spoke clearly.
“When one party fails to fulfill the terms they agreed to. Like... if a landlord promises to fix the AC and doesn’t, even though it’s in the lease.”
The room went quiet.
It was a good answer. Simple. Real. Not from the textbook.
Alex nodded once. “Correct.”
He turned back to the board. But he could feel her eyes on him now. Not staring. Just watching.
The next 30 minutes went by fast.
He walked them through case law, asked questions, shut down distractions.
Every time he glanced back, Tia was writing now. Fast. Focused. No doodles. No phone.
She wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t here for him. She was here for the law.
That irritated him. And impressed him.
When the class ended, he closed his folder.
“Read chapters 4 and 5. Quiz next week.”
He walked out without waiting for the “thank you, Dr. Alex.”
In the hallway, a few students tried to stop him. Questions about assignments. About office hours.
He answered them all in under two minutes and kept walking.
Back in his car, he sat for a minute before starting the engine.
He pulled out his phone and opened the class roster.
_Tia Okafor. First year. Law. Scholarship student._
Scholarship.
That explained the hoodie. And the focus.
He dropped the phone in the cup holder.
“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered to himself.
But it did.
At 6PM he was back in his office downtown. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A desk full of contracts.
His assistant knocked. “Sir, your father called. Again. About the CEO position.”
“Tell him I’m busy,” Alex said without looking up.
He worked until 9. Then he went home to an empty apartment.
Books. Coffee. Silence.
But tonight the silence felt different.
Tonight he kept thinking about a girl in a hoodie who didn’t clap when he walked in.
Who answered with an example about AC instead of quoting the textbook.
Who left the room without looking back.
The next morning he was in court for a client.
The afternoon he was back at TIU for another lecture. Different course. Different students.
He did the same thing. Walked in. Taught. Walked out.
But he found himself scanning the back rows again.
She wasn’t there. Business Law 301 was only Tuesdays and Thursdays.
On Thursday he got to class at 1:38.
This time he didn’t look for her.
He set his briefcase down, wrote on the board, and started.
“Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Dr. Alex.”
All 45 voices.
He almost smiled.
Then he heard the door open.
Late.
He looked up.
Tia. Hair in a braid this time. Same hoodie. Slightly out of breath.
She slipped into the seat by the window without making eye contact.
“Miss Tia,” Alex said. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Bus was delayed.”
“Sit down.”
She did. And opened her notebook immediately.
For the rest of class, Alex called on three other students.
But at the end, just before he left, he paused.
“Miss Tia. Stay a minute.”
The room emptied fast. Girls shot her looks on the way out.
Tia stayed, clutching her notebook.
“Yes, Dr. Alex?”
“You were late,” he said.
“I know. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” He hesitated. “And... good answer on Tuesday.”
Tia blinked. “Thank you.”
He nodded and walked out.
No smile. No extra words.
But as he drove home that night, he realized something.
Out of 200 students he taught this semester, he only remembered one name without checking the roster.
And he hated that it bothered him.
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