Lucien Pov
I feel a dull pounding in my skull as I make my way to the faculty building. As I approach my office, I stop. A figure is already waiting by the door.
Sofia.
Of course.
Thankfully, I remembered her phone.
I expect anger. Humiliation. Maybe even tears. I had snapped at her yesterday—intentionally, cruelly.
She smiles instead.
Not innocently. No. There's something else in it. Something knowing.
"Good morning, Professor Lucien," she says—voice soft. Too soft
Her eyes twinkle—like she knows something I don’t. That look unsettles me.
I pull her phone from my coat pocket and hand it over. “Here.”
She reaches, pauses. Her fingers brush mine.
Deliberate, I think.
"Thank you," she murmurs, gaze steady.
There’s a box in her other hand. Neatly wrapped. With a red ribbon.
Coo
