Even if he had asked, I probably would've just walked home anyway, she tells herself. But still, a strange feeling lingers—cold and warm all at once. The way he looked at me just now… it wasn't cold at all.
Grace stands quietly on the street, the crisp autumn evening wrapping around her like a gentle cloak. For a moment, she lets her mind wander.
Maybe… maybe the reason Professor Julian acts so distant, so awkward around me… she blinks, startled by the thought. Could it be because he likes me?
Her heart stirs, quickening its rhythm. She's always been good at reading people's feelings, and something about his awkwardness doesn't feel like mere coincidence. He's never shown that side of himself to anyone else—only to her.
Does that mean I should show him how I feel, too?
She lifts her gaze to the evening sky—darkening but not yet fully night—and silently offers a prayer from her heart.
In the car, heading home, Julian rolls down the window beside his driver's seat. The early autumn breeze slips in, brushing softly through his hair. He exhales deeply, the cool air carrying away some of the tension in his chest.
I should've asked her for a ride, he thinks, shaking his head at himself.
He remembers how he approached her, uttered a casual comment, then turned and walked away—an awkward exit that felt so unlike the composed, gentleman he usually is with others.
Why do I always act so strangely around her? The thought lingers, unwelcome yet persistent.
I'm her professor, and she's just a student, he repeats silently, clutching the steering wheel a little tighter. But the more he tries to push the thought away, the deeper she settles into his heart, stubborn and undeniable.
It's Tuesday morning, the day Julian Lenter returns to class after a week of personal leave.
The classroom is packed with twenty students. Harry and Grace sit near the back as usual, quietly chatting. The clock on the wall ticks closer to 8:30.
At that exact moment, Julian walks through the door.
The female students in the front row brighten immediately, their eyes shining at his entrance. The guys in the middle rows also look up, their faces lighting with curiosity and relief.
Julian offers a small, calm smile as he moves toward the podium.
"Hello," he says, his voice steady. "I'm sorry for the abrupt—"
His gaze drifts to Grace, who leans back slightly in her seat but doesn't look away. Their eyes meet and hold for a few seconds, charged with quiet meaning.
"Leave for a week," he finishes smoothly, expression relaxed. "I'll make up for the missed sessions with online lectures I'll upload soon. Before we start today's class, a quick reminder. We'll have one-on-one professor-student meetings starting next week. I'll call you by student number, starting from the lowest." He glances around the room. "All right, let's begin."
Harry leans toward Grace and whispers, "One-on-one with Julian? Don't you have one of the front student numbers?"
Grace keeps her eyes fixed on Julian as he scrolls through his laptop.
"Yeah, I think so," she murmurs.
"Well, looks like you'll be first for the one-on-one, then," Harry says with a teasing grin.
Two hours of lecture pass quickly, without a break, as Julian covers the course material with meticulous care and efficient pacing—making up for the classes he missed.
"All right. Before I dismiss you all, remember your group project: a history of fashion video essay and presentation, due in two weeks. Work with your partners until then. Have a good day, everyone," Julian says.
The students begin packing their things and rising from their seats. Harry and Grace, who have already gathered their belongings, stand and walk down the aisle together.
"How about we meet this weekend to work on the project?" Harry asks as they near the exit, nearly passing the podium.
"Sure, weekends work for me," Grace replies casually, deliberately avoiding a glance toward the podium where Julian is surrounded by students, answering questions.
"Grace."
Her steps falter just inside the door. She turns around and catches Julian's gaze through the crowd. His eyes lock onto hers, softer than usual, even with the students pressed close around him.
"You're the first one for the one-on-one session. Please send me your available time slots via email," Julian says quietly.
"Okay," Grace replies, her voice short.
Harry and Grace step out into the hallway, and for a brief moment, Julian's eyes linger on the closed door where they've disappeared.
"Professor Julian, can we also do voice-overs and—?"
The questions from the remaining students pull Julian's attention back, but somewhere deep inside, his heart skips an unsteady beat.
That night, in the soft stillness of her living room, the early autumn breeze slips through the slightly ajar window, carrying with it the faint scent of drying leaves and distant rain. Grace sits hunched over her laptop, the glow of the screen casting gentle shadows on her face as she weaves the delicate threads of her novel—drawn from the vivid fragments of her dreams. Hours slip by unnoticed, the outside world fading away until only the pulse of her story remains.
A sudden weariness creeps in, subtle but insistent. She blinks and raises her eyes to the clock hanging quietly on the wall. Time seems to freeze in that moment. It's already 11:45 p.m.
"Wow..." she breathes out, a soft smile curling at the corner of her lips, both amazed and slightly startled at how fast the night has flown.
She closes the laptop gently, the quiet click echoing like a punctuation mark in the still room. Then, as if jolted by a sudden thought, she recalls the email Julian asked her to send—her availability for the one-on-one session.
"Right. Right…"
Her fingers move almost automatically, opening the laptop again. The familiar ding of a new email notification catches her attention.
There it is.
An email from Professor Julian, sent that afternoon at exactly noon.
Her heartbeat quickens just slightly as she clicks it open, eyes scanning the crisp, formal layout. Available time slots listed neatly, followed by his professional profile—his name typed with exact precision, the kind of polished formality expected from someone in his position.
She lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head to herself.
"Of course it's formal..." she murmurs, amused at the momentary wish she'd had for something more casual, something warmer, something that felt less... distant.
Scrolling through the options, she sees Wednesday and Friday afternoons. Without hesitation, she selects Wednesday at 12 p.m.—the earliest time offered. Her fingers hover for a brief second, a flicker of hesitation threatening to slow her down, but then she clicks
She closes the laptop with a soft sigh, rising from the couch as if trying to banish the sudden flutter of nervous excitement bubbling inside her. Walking to her bedroom, the wooden floor creaks softly under her steps.
Lying back on her bed, she stares up at the pale ceiling, the quiet dark room wrapping around her comfortably. The cool autumn air brushes against her skin through the open window, but inside, her heart beats a steady rhythm, quiet yet undeniable—an intimate drum of anticipation and something deeper, something unnamed.
Tomorrow afternoon, she thinks, and a faint smile tugs at her lips.
"Why don't we start the group project today, then? You're heading to the library anyway, right?" Harry asks as they walk side by side across the sunlit campus, the buzz of post-class chatter around them.
Grace shakes her head gently.
"I have a one-on-one session with Professor Julian at 12 p.m. Sorry, I can't."
Harry comes to a stop in the middle of the path.
The early autumn sun filters through the leaves, dappling the walkway with shifting patches of light. People stroll by, many still in short sleeves—Grace and Harry included, enjoying the mild warmth lingering in the air.
"Wait, it's today?" Harry asks, his brow raising in surprise.
"Yeah, why?"
A mischievous smirk spreads across Harry's face.
"It's kind of weird, you know. I asked some friends who took Julian's course last term, and they said there was never anything like a mandatory one-on-one session. Feels like he just randomly started it for this class."
Grace's heart stutters, a sudden flutter she hadn't really felt all morning stirring deep in her chest.
"Well… I guess he's trying something new this term," she replies with a nonchalant shrug, but her voice is softer than before.
Harry chuckles and waves his hand dismissively.
"All right then. I'll just head back home today. See you later."
As Harry walks away, Grace watches his retreating back, framed by the swaying branches and leaves that rustle softly in the gentle breeze.
It's his first time doing this? Then why...? she wonders, biting her lip. Is it because of me?
A quiet laugh escapes her lips.
I'm being way too self-conscious, she tells herself.
But beneath the laughter, a warm, insistent feeling pulses quietly—one she can't quite shake. The thought lingers.
Maybe Julian started this one-on-one session because of me.