Rose's POV
I narrowed my eyes, fists clenched at my sides, and hissed, "Listen, mister. I know it was my fault, and I did apologize! But that doesn't give you the right to call me an idiot. If anyone's an idiot, it's you. Probably runs in your family!"
Without waiting for a response, I shoved my now slightly coffee-stained handkerchief into his hand with more force than necessary and stormed off, cheeks flaming with embarrassment, anger, and… something else I didn't want to name.
"Great way to start the first day of uni. Holy shit," I muttered, tugging the strap of my bag over my shoulder. The warmth from the coffee had faded, but the heat from my outburst was still burning under my skin.
I made my way through the hallway, dodging students and trying not to replay that heated exchange. No one told me university life would begin with a public altercation. At least no one had filmed it. Hopefully.
I reached the administration office, forced a smile, and collected my timetable. My eyes scanned the list of subjects.
Forget him, Rose. He probably belongs to another department. This campus is huge. You won't run into him again, I reassured myself.
Clutching the timetable, I headed toward my first class—English. A subject I always loved. Words made sense when nothing else did. I entered the classroom and settled into a seat in the middle row. Safe—neither too front where the teacher could notice my every blink, nor too back where distractions swirled like a whirlpool.
Just as I settled in, the professor entered, a tall, elderly man with neatly combed silver hair and a calm presence. The bell rang right behind him, sharp and echoing.
His very aura demanded silence, and the class fell quiet even before he spoke. He looked like someone who had spent decades surrounded by books, poetry, and half-hearted essays. Definitely close to retirement.
"Roll call," he announced, scanning the list in his hand.
"Rosaline Winters?" he called out.
"Present, sir," I said, raising my hand slightly.
His eyes lifted to meet mine. "Ah, we have a newcomer," he said with a mild smile. "Everyone, please welcome Ms. Rosaline. Ms. Winters, could you stand and introduce yourself?"
All eyes turned to me like spotlights. My pulse quickened. I hadn't expected this on my first day. But I took a deep breath and forced a calm expression.
"Yes, Professor." I stood, straightening my posture. "Hello, everyone. I'm Rosaline Winters. You can call me Rose. I had to join this college because my father, a government official, got transferred here recently. Please look after me."
There was a warm round of applause. Some smiled, a few waved lightly. My cheeks flushed from the attention, but I managed a small nod of gratitude.
"You may sit, Ms. Winters," the professor said, and soon the lecture began.
To my surprise, I was completely drawn in. His voice was calm but commanding, and the way he explained metaphors and character arcs made me fall even more in love with literature. One hour passed before I even realized.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I packed my things. Next up: Chemistry.
"I heard there's a new professor for Chemistry," someone whispered as we walked through the corridor.
"Oh, a new professor? God help me," I groaned. "I hope he doesn't target me. I suck at reactions."
I sighed and whispered a prayer. "Please let this professor be kind. Or at least not terrifying."
Entering the Chemistry class, I found my seat again in the middle row, organizing my notebook and waiting for the unknown. A few students chatted quietly while others scrolled on their phones. Just then, two men entered. I could only catch a glimpse of one. The other walked slightly behind and to the side, making it hard to see his face.
The dean stepped forward and spoke. "Good morning, students. Please welcome your new chemistry professor, Mr. Sebastian Knight. He'll be handling your theory and lab classes going forward."
I barely reacted. Too busy rummaging through my bag for my pen. But something about the name made my fingers freeze.
Then, came a voice. Deep. Calm. With a dark edge that demanded attention.
"Hello, everyone. This is Sebastian Knight. You may call me Mr. Knight, or Professor Knight."
My fingers paused. Knight? That voice… no, it couldn't be.
Before I could lift my head, a girl from another row shouted, "You look handsome in that shirt, Mr. Knight!"
Gasps. Giggles.
I looked up just in time to hear him reply, his tone flat but layered with something bitter. "Thanks. Though I should mention that this shirt was my second choice. Thanks to an idiot who poured blazing hot coffee on me this morning."
No. Freaking. Way.
My eyes snapped as I heard the word 'idiot' toward the source of that voice. And there he was.
Professor Sebastian Knight.
My jaw went slack.
I mouthed a silent "fuck," ducking my head and praying the ground would open up and swallow me whole. My brain scrambled to calculate the odds.
The same man I insulted just hours ago was my Chemistry professor.
And judging by the sharp look he shot me, he recognized me too.
His eyes—steel gray, sharp, unforgiving—locked onto mine like a sniper targeting his mark. For a brief second, his jaw tightened. Then, just like that, he composed himself.
"No more personal comments," he said sharply. "I don't tolerate them. This is your first and last warning. I expect discipline and attention in both theory and lab. Disobedience won't be entertained."
My heart dropped. He's the lab instructor too? Great. Just great.
As he started explaining the basics of the chapter, I tried my best to concentrate. Honestly, his way of teaching was brilliant. His voice, his clarity, the way he simplified even the most complex reactions—he was a natural. I began to relax.
Until… the theory ended. And reactions began.
My brain shut down.
I stared blankly at the equations forming on the board, not understanding even half. Notes blurred. Words merged.
I sighed, chewing on my pen in frustration.
Then suddenly—thwack.
A soft object hit my desk and rolled to the edge. A pen cap. It had narrowly missed my forehead.
I looked up in confusion.
Professor Knight stood at the dais, arms crossed. He had thrown it from there. An almost impossible aim.
"Concentrate," he said, his gaze piercing and unreadable.
I blinked, startled, unsure if I was impressed or terrified.
Maybe both.
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