“i’ve appreciated the way you appreciated my hard work”
The sun was barely a smudge on the horizon when I left my dorm, the sky painted in shades of gray that mirrored my mood. Oxford’s cobblestone streets were slick with morning dew, each step sending a shiver through my shoes. As I crossed the quad, I felt the centuries of history staring down at me from the towering spires, their solemn stone faces whispering tales of brilliance and struggle.
I walked briskly to my first class of the day—Discrete Mathematics. It was a small lecture hall, but the pressure within was anything but diminutive. Rows of students sat hunched over laptops, the blue glow of their screens casting a ghostly light on their faces. The quiet murmur of hushed discussions floated through the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the communal pot in the corner.
The professor's voice cut through the room, each word carrying a weight that seemed to sink into my chest. The content was dense, complex, and required more concentration than my caffeine-addled brain could muster at this hour. I scribbled notes, trying to keep up, but the pace was relentless. I glanced at my classmates; they were absorbed, their fingers flying over keyboards, their eyes fixed on the projection screen where diagrams and equations blurred into a dizzying dance.
Between classes, I made my way to the computer lab, where the steady hum of computers filled the air. Here, the stress became palpable. Students hunched over their workstations, faces creased with concentration. I saw friends exchanging worried glances, their voices hushed as they discussed the latest assignment—another mountain to climb, another impossible deadline. It was a constant grind, a relentless barrage of tasks that seemed designed to test our breaking points.
I felt the weight of my laptop in my bag, the weight of the assignments stacking up like a Jenga tower on the brink of collapse. My calendar was a sea of red, each block of time filled with deadlines, study sessions, and meetings with professors. I couldn’t afford to slack, not with the constant reminder that everyone here was exceptional, and the competition was fierce.
As I left the lab, I caught a glimpse of the ancient college buildings bathed in a faint morning light. They were beautiful, but their beauty felt distant, almost mocking. I wondered how many students before me had walked these same paths, felt the same stress, and questioned whether they could ever measure up to the legacy of Oxford. I took a deep breath, knowing that I had to keep pushing, even as the assignments threatened to drown me in a sea of anxiety.
I entered the next class, slipping into a seat beside my best friend, Emily. The lecture hall was buzzing with energy, the usual chatter and rustling of notebooks echoing off the stone walls. Emily looked up and gave me a quick smile. "Hey," she said, sliding a stack of papers into her bag. "You survived Data Structures, huh? How brutal was it today?"
"Brutal doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied with a dramatic sigh. "The assignment load is insane. But hey, at least we've got coffee to look forward to afterward."
Emily chuckled, flipping open her laptop. "I'm holding you to that. Double espresso, here I come."
I nodded, taking out my own supplies and arranging them neatly on the desk. The lecture was about to start, and I was mentally preparing myself for another hour of high-intensity learning. But as I looked toward the door, the chatter died down, and everything seemed to shift into slow motion.
The lecturer walked in, and I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining things. He looked quite young. Maybe we weren’t that much gap in age. I’m 21, he might be around 24?? He was tall and carried himself with a confidence that was almost ethereal. His attire was impeccably stylish—tailored navy trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a slim-fit blazer that looked like it was made for him. He had a casual elegance about him that set him apart from the other lecturers, who usually wore more traditional academic robes.
But it was his eyes that really caught my attention. They were a striking shade of brown-black, so vivid they seemed to capture the entire spectrum of my life. They were deep and expressive, capable of conveying a world of meaning with a single glance. As he scanned the room, his gaze met mine for a fleeting moment, and I felt my heart skip a beat.
His hair was another story altogether. It was jet black and fell in soft waves that framed his face, adding to his allure. It seemed to move with a life of its own, bouncing gently with each step he took. I had never seen a lecturer like him before—someone who could blend intelligence with such effortless style.
I felt a strange flutter in my chest, a mix of nerves and curiosity. It was unlike anything I'd felt in a classroom before. The room was silent as he reached the podium, his presence commanding attention without a single word. As he spoke, his voice was smooth and rich, filling the hall with a calm authority. I couldn't help but be drawn in, mesmerized by his every word.
Emily nudged me, a smirk on her lips. "What's with that look? Someone's got a crush on the new lecturer, huh?"
I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool. "Oh, please. I'm just... appreciating the scenery, that's all."
But deep down, I knew that this lecture was going to be different, and not just because of the content. This lecturer had a way of making everything seem more intriguing, more exciting. And as I took notes, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, my mind racing with questions and my heart pounding in a way I hadn't expected.
Then he spoke, and my world stopped spinning. “Good morning, everyone,” he said in a husky, deep voice that seemed to reverberate through the lecture hall. “My name is Mr. Na Jaemin, but you can call me Mr. Na. I’m the new lecturer for this course.” His voice was so smooth, so rich, that it seemed to wrap around each word, adding an almost hypnotic quality to everything he said.
The chatters around the lecture hall faded into silence. My attention was glued to him, the way his words seemed to flow effortlessly from his lips. It was as if he had this magnetic pull, drawing all eyes to him without even trying. I felt my brain shutting down, like it was too overwhelmed to process anything but the sound of his voice.
He continued to speak, introducing the course and outlining what we could expect in the weeks to come, but I barely registered any of it. I was too busy watching the way his lips moved as he spoke, the way his eyes lit up when he glanced around the room. It felt like the whole world had narrowed down to this moment, to this lecture hall, to him.
Emily nudged me, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Are you listening to anything he’s saying, or are you just lost in those eyes?”
I gave her a weak smile, my voice barely a whisper. “What? Oh, yeah, totally listening.” But I wasn’t, not really. I was caught in a trance, and it felt like I might never want to break free.
The class ended, just like that. I snapped out of my daze when Emily nudged me again, laughing softly. I looked down at my notebook—blank, not a single word jotted down. This was unusual for me. Usually, I'd be scribbling furiously, trying to capture every important point. But today? Nothing. The entire lecture passed in a haze, and now Mr. Na was gone, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion.
Emily was packing her things, a grin stretching across her face. "Looks like someone wasn't paying attention," she teased, stuffing her laptop into her bag. "Did you even hear anything he said? Or were you just too busy daydreaming about those eyes?"
I gave her a sheepish smile, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What? No, I was totally listening. Just... you know, processing." I tried to sound convincing, but even I didn't believe my own words. My brain was still replaying Mr. Na's entrance, his voice, and those captivating blue eyes.
Emily laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Right. Processing. Sure, we'll go with that." She finished packing and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's grab that coffee. We can work on our assignments together before the next class. You might need a little help catching up."
I sighed, closing my notebook and shoving it into my bag. "Yeah, coffee sounds good. Let's get out of here." I stood up, my legs feeling slightly wobbly, as if my entire body was still reeling from the effect of Mr. Na's presence. It was like I had been hit by a tidal wave of charm, and I was just now starting to find my footing.
We made our way out of the lecture hall, the chatter of other students gradually filling the hallway. I spotted a couple of our friends and waved them over. "Hey, we're heading to the coffee shop. Wanna join us?"
They nodded, and we all headed toward the exit, the crisp Oxford air hitting my face as we stepped outside. It was refreshing, grounding me a bit after the surreal experience of the lecture. Emily leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, love at first sight, huh?"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, come on. Don't start with that."
She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm just saying. I've never seen you this spaced out after a lecture. I mean, you've got a reputation for being the note-taking queen."
I chuckled, finally feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Just had a lot on my mind, that's all." But even as I said it, I knew the truth. Something about Mr. Na had thrown me off balance, and it was going to take a lot more than a coffee to get me back on track.
The night settled over Oxford, the city’s ancient architecture casting long shadows under the dim streetlights. I was back in my dorm, a small but cozy room with a single bed tucked into a corner. The walls were adorned with posters and notes from various classes, but tonight, none of them held my attention.
I sat on my bed, my laptop propped up on my legs, pretending to study. My eyes kept wandering, staring at the ceiling or through the small window that offered a glimpse of the college quad. The usual buzz of student life filtered through the walls, faint voices and laughter from the common area down the hall, but it all felt distant.
All I could think about was Mr. Na.
His face appeared in my mind, as if etched there permanently. Those striking blue eyes, the kind that seemed to see right through you, and the way his fluffy black hair framed his handsome face. His voice—deep, smooth, and soothing—kept playing in my head, each word lingering long after he'd left the classroom.
I closed my laptop, knowing full well I wouldn't get any more studying done tonight. Instead, I got ready for bed, changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth. As I moved around the small room, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to see Mr. Na again the next day. Would he remember me? Would he smile in that way that made my heart skip a beat?
As I climbed into bed, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. It was ridiculous—I had only just met the man, but something about him had completely thrown me off my usual routine. I was known for my discipline, my focus, but now all I wanted was to be in his class again, to hear his voice, to watch him command the room with that effortless charisma.
I pulled the blankets over me, my mind racing with what-ifs. What if he taught more classes? What if I had the chance to talk to him after a lecture? I knew it was all a bit fanciful, but I couldn't help it. There was something about him that made me feel like I was in the middle of a daydream.
As I closed my eyes, I hoped I would dream of him. Maybe we’d be in a classroom, his voice echoing off the walls, or maybe it would be something else entirely. The possibilities seemed endless, and I drifted off with a smile, eagerly awaiting what tomorrow might bring.
The next morning, I woke up with a sense of excitement that felt almost tangible. It washed over me in waves, making my hands tremble with anticipation. I got ready for the day, my thoughts racing through the upcoming lectures, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Na again. Would he remember me? Would he say something that made my heart flutter?
As I walked down the hallway, I was practically bouncing on my toes. My backpack felt lighter, and even the morning chill couldn't dampen my mood. But then, as I turned a corner, I saw him. He was standing at the far end of the corridor, talking to a student—a girl with long, dark hair and a bright smile. They were laughing together, his voice low and warm, and her laughter light and melodic.
My heart skipped a beat, then sank like a stone. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, a sudden burst of anger and jealousy that was as unexpected as it was intense. He was smiling at her, really smiling, like he was genuinely enjoying their conversation. And I hated it.
It was ridiculous, I knew that. He was my lecturer, not someone I could claim ownership over. Yet, the sight of him laughing with her felt like a punch to the gut. I had no right to be upset, but the feeling was there, sharp and cutting. I told myself to calm down, to not let this childish jealousy take over, but it was hard to ignore the tightening in my chest.
"Get it together," I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to look away. "You're just being stupid. It's just a crush. A stupid, ridiculous crush."
I tried to push the feelings down as I headed to my first class. It was him—Mr. Na. As I entered the lecture hall, I was determined to focus on the lesson, to act like everything was fine. But the sight of him earlier still lingered in my mind, and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself.
He walked into the lecture hall, calm and composed, like nothing had happened. Like he didn't just tear my heart into pieces with his smile. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let my emotions get the better of me. This was a classroom, and I needed to act like an adult. This wasn't high school; I couldn't afford to be distracted by a silly crush.
As the lecture began, I forced myself to take notes, to focus on the content. I wrote down everything he said, my pen moving quickly across the paper. The childish thoughts and jealousy were pushed to the back of my mind. I needed to be mature, to concentrate on what mattered—my studies, my future.
But even as I pretended to be focused, a part of me couldn't help but glance at him from time to time, wondering what it was about him that had such an effect on me. I told myself it was just a passing fancy, that I would get over it soon. Yet, deep down, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.
It had been a few weeks since the initial flutters and jitters of my crush on Mr. Na. I'd decided to focus on my studies, to keep things professional, and, frankly, it was working. The excitement had faded, and he was just another lecturer in my eyes—at least, that's what I told myself. I was more focused, my notes were detailed, and I was catching up on all the assignments. But then, one day, everything shifted.
Mr. Na stormed into the lecture hall, and everyone knew something was wrong. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a furious energy that crackled in the air. He was wearing glasses today—thick-framed and sleek. With them on, he looked even hotter than usual. He wore a white tee, a black tie, and slim-fit black trousers. But it wasn't his style that caught my attention. It was his mood. He was angry, really angry, and he made sure everyone knew it.
He slammed a stack of assignments on the table, the sound echoing throughout the hall. "What is this?" he exclaimed, pointing at the pile of papers. "These are ridiculous! This is not what I expect from Oxford students! You are capable of much better than this!"
His voice was loud, sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. I could feel the tension in the room; everyone was on edge. Mr. Na paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with frustration. He was passionate about his subject, that much was clear, but his anger made it seem like he was ready to combust.
He grabbed a book and banged it on the table for emphasis. "This isn't high school! You're here to learn, not to slack off and turn in half-baked work. I want perfection. I demand it!" His voice echoed off the stone walls, sending shivers down my spine.
I was just staring at him, mesmerized by the intensity of his rage. It was understandable—I'd be mad too if I were in his shoes. He cared about the quality of our work, and he wasn't shy about expressing his disappointment. But still, it was unnerving to see him like this.
The lecture hall was silent. Dead silent. No one dared to make a sound. Mr. Na continued his tirade, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey. And then he called my name.
I felt my heart skip a beat. The room seemed to close in around me as I stood up and walked toward him. My hands were sweating, my pulse racing. He looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes, and I knew I was in trouble.
He opened my book and paused for what felt like an eternity. The silence stretched, and I could hear my own breathing, heavy and ragged. I was sweating bullets, my nerves frayed to the breaking point. What would he say? Would he tear me apart like he did the others? My mind was a whirlwind of fear and anticipation.
Mr. Na opened my book and paused for a moment that felt like an eternity. His eyes scanned my work with a critical yet calm focus. But then, something changed. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile. It was subtle, but it transformed the entire atmosphere in the lecture hall. The tension seemed to melt away as he began to speak.
"Excellent work," he said, his voice warm and filled with genuine praise. "This is exactly the kind of detail and sophistication I expect from my students. Thorough, precise, and insightful. Keep it up." He continued to speak, listing the aspects of my assignment that he found impressive, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This was the recognition I needed after all those late nights and long hours.
Around me, I could hear the murmurs of approval from my classmates. Emily gave me a discreet thumbs-up, and even some of the usually more reserved students nodded in acknowledgment. It was a rare moment of triumph, a fleeting victory in the midst of the rigorous grind.
But not everyone was pleased. I caught a glimpse of the girl from the hallway, the one Mr. Na had been smiling and chatting with earlier. She was sitting at the back with her group of friends, and her expression was anything but approving. She was glaring at me, her eyes narrowed in a mix of jealousy and disdain. Her friends seemed to pick up on her mood, sharing looks and whispering among themselves.
The intensity of her stare was unnerving, but I tried to ignore it. After all, Mr. Na was praising me in front of the entire class, and I didn't want to let anything spoil the moment. But the girl's glare was like a laser, sharp and unyielding, as if she was trying to burn a hole through me. What was her problem? Did she think I was trying to steal the spotlight? Or was she just angry because her own assignment didn't meet his expectations?
Mr. Na continued with the lecture, his voice steady and authoritative, but I could feel the eyes of that girl on me the entire time. It was hard to focus, but I reminded myself that I had earned this praise, and I wasn't about to let anyone take it away from me. I took a deep breath and returned to my notes, pretending not to notice the looks from the back of the room.
Emily leaned over and whispered, "What's with her? She looks like she's ready to explode."
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Maybe she didn't like the critique. Or she's just having a bad day." But even as I said it, I knew there was more to it. The girl's glare held a bitterness that couldn't be explained away by a bad grade. It was personal.
As the class continued, I resolved to stay focused and not let the jealousy get to me. But I knew I'd have to keep my guard up. Mr. Na's praise was a double-edged sword—it brought recognition, but it also attracted unwanted attention. And from the looks of it, I had just made an enemy.
I couldn't believe it. Mr. Na had just highly praised my work in front of the entire class. The very same Mr. Na who, not long ago, had made my heart race with a single glance. The same man I had spent sleepless nights thinking about, only to force myself to focus on my studies and let those feelings fade away. But now, here he was, smiling at me like I had done something extraordinary.
A mix of emotions swirled within me. There was the undeniable sense of pride—I had worked hard on that assignment, and it was gratifying to have my efforts recognized. But there was also something else, a lingering echo of the crush I thought I had put behind me. Hearing his voice, seeing that smile, it all felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten melody that suddenly played again.
It was almost surreal. I had once daydreamed about moments like this, where he'd acknowledge me in a special way. And yet, I had moved on, hadn't I? I had decided to focus on my studies, to let the feelings of my "first love" fade away into the background. But now, standing there in the lecture hall, it all came rushing back.
It was as if my heart couldn't make up its mind. I was thrilled to have impressed him, but part of me was uneasy, knowing that these lingering feelings might lead me down a path I had resolved to avoid. This was a classroom, not a romantic novel. I had to keep my emotions in check.
And yet, his words of praise echoed in my mind, refusing to be ignored. His voice had a way of making everything seem brighter, more vivid. It was like being drawn into a familiar orbit, one that I had consciously left behind. The challenge was to keep my focus on the important things—my studies, my future—and not let the swirling emotions distract me from my goals.
As I sat back down, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I couldn't let a moment of praise from Mr. Na throw me off course. But the memory of his smile, the warmth in his eyes, lingered like a whisper I couldn't quite shake. It was a reminder that first loves, even those you thought you'd moved on from, had a way of reappearing when you least expected them.
The class ended, and the lecture hall erupted in a flurry of activity. Everyone was gathering their books, shuffling papers, and heading for the door, eager to get on with their day. I was packing my things slowly, my mind still processing what had just happened. Mr. Na's words of praise echoed in my ears, leaving a warm sensation in my chest.
Emily was already at the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. She waved at me, gesturing for me to hurry up. "Come on! I've got another class in a few minutes," she said, her voice carrying over the din.
I waved back, indicating for her to go ahead. "You go. I have a couple of hours free before my next class. I'll head to the library and do some research." She nodded and left, her footsteps disappearing into the crowd.
I was almost done packing when I heard it—my name, called softly but with a tone that instantly caught my attention. It was Mr. Na, his voice like silk and velvet, low and smooth. It was the kind of voice that could stop anyone in their tracks, and it certainly did with me. My heart skipped a beat, and I turned around to find him standing at the lecturing desk, his eyes locked on me.
He'd taken off his glasses, letting them dangle from his shirt's neckline. The look suited him, adding an edge of casual confidence to his usual professional demeanor. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it in frustration, but it only made him look more appealing. I couldn't help but think that he had never looked this hot before.
"Could I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of invitation. The lecture hall was mostly empty now, with just a few stragglers left gathering their things. I nodded, unable to find my voice at first. It took me a second to remember to breathe.
I walked toward him, my bag slung over one shoulder. My steps were hesitant, like I was walking into unfamiliar territory. What could he possibly want to talk to me about? The compliment earlier had already thrown me off balance, and now this? It was like a whirlwind of unexpected events, and I wasn't sure if I was prepared for whatever came next.
As I approached the desk, I noticed how his eyes seemed even browner up close, a shade that could just warm up the cold weather of Oxofrd. I tried to act casual, to hide the nervousness that made my palms sweat. But the way he looked at me, with that gentle yet intense gaze, made it hard to keep my composure.
As I reached the lecturing desk, Mr. Na was already watching me with those striking brown-black eyes, a slight smile on his lips. He motioned for me to stand closer, his voice low but clear enough to be heard over the diminishing noise of the other students leaving. It felt like the whole room had shrunk to just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into a blur.
"I've been keeping an eye on each of my students," he began, his tone serious yet warm. "It's part of my job to ensure everyone is progressing and engaged." He paused, letting his words sink in. His gaze was steady, sharp, like he was reading every detail in my expression. It was the kind of look that could pierce through walls, the kind that saw everything.
"But you," he continued, his voice softening, "you caught my attention. You've been fully focused in class, your work is consistently excellent, and you ask insightful questions. I'm proud of you." The way he said it, with that mix of authority and genuine warmth, sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he saw me, really saw me, beyond the grades and assignments.
I felt my cheeks flush, heat rising to my face. His words were more than just a compliment; they were a validation, an acknowledgment that my hard work wasn't going unnoticed. The silence between us grew, stretching into a long pause. He seemed to be waiting for my response, his eyes holding a gentle yet expectant gaze.
It took me a moment to find my voice. My mind was racing, struggling to come up with something intelligent to say, something that wouldn't sound too awkward or forced. My heart was pounding in my chest, the pulse echoing in my ears. This was more than just a simple "well done"—it felt like he was reaching out to connect on a level that went beyond the classroom.
Finally, I snapped back to reality, realizing that he was still waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you so much, Mr. Na," I said, my voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "It means a lot coming from you." I wanted to say more, to express how much his words had impacted me, but I didn't trust myself to speak without betraying the rush of feelings I was experiencing.
He nodded, a smile spreading across his lips. "Keep it up," he said, his voice carrying an encouraging warmth. "I have high hopes for you." With that, he turned back to his lecturing materials, leaving me standing there, my heart still racing, trying to process what had just happened. The tension was still there, but now it felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to keep my focus and live up to the expectations he'd just set. But the warmth from his words lingered, a quiet reassurance that seemed to fill the room even after he had turned away.
As I turned to leave the room, my cheeks were flushed with a warmth that spread through my entire body. I couldn't help but glance back at Mr. Na, watching him as he gathered his materials for the next class. He was so composed, so self-assured, and yet his words to me were gentle and full of praise. I felt a surge of pride and a touch of something else I couldn't quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or a rekindled admiration. Whatever it was, it made me walk a little taller as I headed for the door.
But as I stepped out into the hallway, my confidence faltered. The same group of girls who had been glaring at me earlier during Mr. Na's praise were standing off to the side, throwing me dirty looks. There were four of them, and they seemed to be waiting, as if I had unknowingly stepped into their territory. Their ringleader was the girl from the hallway, the one who'd been laughing with Mr. Na before. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
It was one against four. A part of me wanted to turn around and find another way out, but I knew that would only give them what they wanted—a sign that I was afraid. Instead, I kept my cool, squaring my shoulders as I walked past them. I was taller than most of them, which gave me a slight advantage. If nothing else, I could use my height to project confidence, even if I felt like my stomach was doing somersaults.
As I passed by, the ringleader couldn't resist a snide remark. "Look who's suddenly the teacher's pet," she said, her voice dripping with sarcascastic mockery. Her friends snickered, each throwing me a glare that felt like daggers.
The ringleader, the girl who had been talking to Mr. Na in the hallway earlier, was hard to ignore. Her outfit was designed to draw attention—a cropped top that showed off her midriff and tight jeans that hugged her figure. She had a confident, almost cocky air about her, and her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves. It was the kind of look that seemed intended to impress, and judging by the way she stood with her arms crossed, she knew she was being watched.
When I saw her speaking to Mr. Na earlier, she had been all smiles and charm, clearly trying to make an impression. And why wouldn’t she? Mr. Na’s laughter had been genuine, his eyes lighting up as she spoke. But now, it seemed like her pleasant demeanor had melted away, replaced by a scowl that she aimed directly at me.
It was almost laughable. Trying to impress Mr. Na with ridiculous grades and revealing outfits? Keep on dreaming. This was Oxford, not a fashion show. I knew I had earned Mr. Na’s praise through hard work and dedication, not by batting my eyelashes and hoping for the best. If this girl thought she could gain favor with him by dressing provocatively and flashing a smile, she was in for a rude awakening.
But even so, the sting of jealousy was unmistakable in her eyes. It was like she had expected Mr. Na’s attention to be hers alone, and my success had disrupted her carefully laid plans. I wasn’t going to let her or her gang of friends intimidate me, but I knew I’d need to keep my guard up. People like her could be unpredictable when they felt threatened. And I had no intention of becoming her next target.
I took a deep breath, refusing to let them get to me. "Jealousy doesn't suit you," I replied, my voice even and calm. I kept walking, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. My heart was pounding, but I knew I had to maintain my composure. The last thing I needed was a confrontation in the hallway.
As I turned the corner, I could still hear them laughing, but I didn't look back. I had more important things to focus on, like my studies and the praise Mr. Na had given me. Besides, I wasn't about to let a group of mean-spirited girls ruin my day. I walked with my head held high, reminding myself that I had earned my place here. If they wanted to throw shade, that was their problem, not mine.
A few weeks turned into months, and life at Oxford settled into a steady rhythm. The initial excitement of my first encounter with Mr. Na had given way to a determined focus on my studies. I was no longer the daydreamer I once was; instead, I was known for my diligence and attention to detail. I threw myself into my coursework, attending every lecture, meticulously taking notes, and diving deep into research projects. It paid off in ways I hadn't anticipated.
When the results for the first mid-term test were released, I was nervous but hopeful. The rumors had been circulating that this would be the most challenging exam of the term, and many students were on edge. I opened my email, my heart racing, and saw the score: 4.00 GPA. It was perfect. I couldn't believe it. All those sleepless nights, the endless hours in the library, and the pressure I had put on myself—it had all been worth it.
The list of top students with a 4.00 GPA was proudly announced in every student's email inbox, on Oxford's main board, and even in the daily campus newsletter. It was everywhere, and my name was the first on the list. I was thrilled but tried to keep my excitement in check. I didn't want to come across as boastful, even though I was bursting with pride.
I immediately called my parents, who lived far from Oxford, and their voices were filled with joy and pride. "We're so proud of you!" my mom said, her voice cracking with emotion. My dad chimed in, "That's our girl! We knew you could do it!" We talked for a while, discussing my studies and the vacation we were planning for the next summer holidays. It felt good to share my success with them, to hear their enthusiasm for the future.
Emily and the rest of my friends congratulated me with genuine happiness. "You're amazing!" Emily said, giving me a big hug. "We need to celebrate! Let's throw a party after all that studying and cramming. You deserve it!" I agreed, grateful for the support of my friends. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone in this journey, that I had people who cared about me and wanted to share in my achievements.
But even as the celebration plans took shape, I was already looking ahead. I had set my sights on something bigger—a Ph.D. I knew the road ahead would be challenging, but I was ready for it. The 4.00 GPA was a significant milestone, but it was just the beginning. I was determined to push further, to explore new horizons, and to make a mark in the world of computer science.
Oxford had given me the tools, and I intended to use them. The party was just the beginning of a new chapter, one that would lead me to greater heights. I was excited for the journey ahead and eager to see where it would take me.
The end-of-semester party at Oxford was the event everyone had been looking forward to. It was held at a grand hotel, a place known for its opulent decor and lavish events. The hotel stood tall and regal, with its stone façade and large glass windows reflecting the city lights. As we approached, I could hear the soft strains of music floating out from the ballroom, the distant hum of voices and laughter filling the night air.
The entrance was adorned with elegant drapes and twinkling lights, leading into a grand foyer where guests were mingling, dressed in their finest. The ceiling was high, with elaborate chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the entire space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting the movements of the guests as they moved about, greeting friends and lecturers alike.
I had chosen a long, flowing evening gown for the occasion. It was a deep emerald green that complemented my skin tone and brought out the color of my eyes. The dress had a delicate lace overlay that added an air of sophistication, and it cinched at the waist to give me a flattering silhouette. I wore my hair in loose curls that cascaded over my shoulders, and my makeup was subtle but accentuated my features. A pair of silver heels completed the look, adding just the right amount of sparkle.
As I stepped into the ballroom, the environment was alive with energy. A live band was playing soft jazz, adding a touch of elegance to the evening. People were chatting, laughing, and dancing on the grand dance floor at the center of the room. The lecturers were there too, dressed in their finest, mingling with students and colleagues.
The decorations were exquisite. The tables were adorned with white linens and elaborate centerpieces, and the walls were lined with ornate tapestries. The hotel staff moved gracefully among the guests, serving hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The entire scene felt like something out of a fairytale, a perfect setting to celebrate the end of a long semester.
I moved through the crowd, greeting my friends and exchanging pleasantries with my lecturers. It was a night to remember, a moment of relaxation and celebration after months of hard work and intense study. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and the music provided the perfect backdrop for an evening of fun and camaraderie.
The host of the party stepped onto the stage, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention. The room fell into a quiet murmur, then silence as all eyes turned toward the stage. The moment everyone had been waiting for—the announcement of the "Main Girl" of the batch, the one who excelled in academics and co-curricular activities—was finally here. The tension was palpable, the air buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was hoping to hear their name called, and you could feel the excitement mixed with nervousness throughout the grand ballroom.
I wasn’t expecting much, so I was busily chatting with my friends, enjoying the night. It was a party, after all, and I was here to celebrate the end of a long semester. But then, suddenly, I heard my name. It took me a moment to register what had just happened. Was that really my name? I turned to see everyone looking at me, their eyes filled with surprise and admiration. The applause started slowly, then grew louder, echoing through the ballroom. People were cheering and clapping for me, their voices filled with genuine joy.
I was in disbelief. I stood, my legs feeling wobbly as if they might give out beneath me. The cheers grew louder, and my friends rushed to my side, hugging me tightly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, the emotion of the moment washing over me. It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.
As I hugged my friends, I glanced across the room and saw Mr. Na standing in the corner among the other lecturers. He was clapping for me, his smile wide and genuine. There was a look of pride on his face, a mix of happiness and satisfaction that warmed my heart. I felt a surge of gratitude, knowing that his encouragement and guidance had played a significant role in my success.
I made my way to the stage, still in a daze from all the attention. The host handed me a small crown, a symbol of my achievement, and I bowed in front of everyone, feeling the heat of the spotlight. The applause was deafening, but it felt like the perfect culmination of all my hard work. I had worked tirelessly throughout the semester, and now I was being recognized for it. The cheers, the clapping, the smiles—it was a moment I would never forget.
The party ended with a burst of applause and cheers, the ballroom slowly emptying as students and lecturers headed back to their dorms. The energy of the evening had been palpable, but now it was time to say goodbye and pack for the summer holidays, which started the next day. The hotel lobby was filled with laughter and goodbyes, everyone sharing stories from the night and making plans to meet up during the break.
I waved goodbye to my friends, hugging them and kissing them on the cheek, thanking them for one of the best nights of my life. "This was amazing," Emily said, squeezing me tightly. "We'll have to do it again soon!" I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement for the holidays and sadness that the semester had come to an end. It felt like a chapter closing, with so much more yet to be written.
Some of my friends were waiting for me, asking if I wanted to walk back with them to the dorms. I appreciated the offer, but I had other plans. "I need to use the bathroom," I said with a sheepish smile. "I think I drank a little too much tonight." They laughed, waving me off and heading toward the exit.
The hallway leading to the restrooms was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling ballroom. The lights were dimmer here, casting soft shadows on the walls. As I made my way to the restroom, I passed a few lingering partygoers, their laughter fading into the distance as they left. It was a moment of solitude after a night filled with noise and celebration, and I welcomed the brief silence.
Inside the restroom, the sound of running water echoed off the tiles, a soothing white noise after the chaos of the party. I took a moment to collect myself, splashing some cool water on my face to calm my nerves. It had been an incredible night, filled with unexpected surprises and moments I knew I'd cherish forever. The memory of the announcement, the cheers, and the crown made me smile. But now, it was time to return to reality and prepare for the journey ahead.
As I washed my hands, the soothing sound of running water helped to calm my nerves after the night’s festivities. But then I heard the chatter of a group of girls entering the restroom. The voices were familiar, but I tried to push the recognition aside. I knew exactly who they were—the same group that had been giving me dirty looks earlier at the party.
I quickly grabbed my bag and headed toward the exit, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But as I turned the corner, I bumped into them, nearly knocking one of them over. It was the same girl, the one who had tried to outshine me in front of Mr. Na, the one with the revealing outfits and the fake smiles. Her friends crowded around her, their expressions already set to mock me.
"Well, well, well," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who it is. The 'Main Girl' herself." Her friends laughed, nodding in agreement.
I tried to ignore them, to keep my composure, but it was hard. The words stung, each one like a sharp needle pricking my skin. I decided to fight back with a simple comeback. "Just shove all your jealousy up your ass, instead do something better? something like getting better on your academic performances, yeah?" I said, looking her straight in the eye. It was a small victory, but it seemed to hit a nerve. Some of the girls glared at me, while others whispered angrily among themselves.
The main girl pretended to keep her cool, but I could see the anger in her eyes. She hated that I had the spotlight, that I had earned the admiration of our lecturers, especially Mr. Na. It was a constant reminder of her failure to stand out, and she couldn’t hide her resentment.
One of the girls in her group was holding a cup of iced chocolate. Before I could react, she flung it at me, the cold liquid splashing across my dress, my hair, and my face. The others burst into laughter, their voices echoing off the bathroom tiles. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, feeling the sticky mess dripping down my dress. It was humiliating. The beautiful gown I had chosen for the night was ruined, and my hair was a tangled, chocolate-covered mess.
The laughter grew louder, the girls enjoying my discomfort. I felt a surge of anger and shame, but I knew that reacting would only give them more satisfaction. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite the overwhelming humiliation. It was one of the worst moments I had ever experienced, and I knew it would be etched in my memory for a long time.
The laughter and mockery filled the restroom as the cold, sticky chocolate dripped from my hair and dress. The girls continued to sneer, their eyes gleaming with a mix of cruelty and triumph. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but beneath the humiliation, I felt a surge of anger bubbling to the surface.
I bent down and grabbed the half-empty cup of iced chocolate from the floor. Without hesitating, I threw it back at the main girl, the contents splashing across her shirt and into her hair. Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth forming a perfect "O" as she staggered backward, hitting the wall. Her friends gasped, their mocking laughter turning to disbelief.
I didn't wait to see her reaction. I stormed out of the bathroom, my footsteps echoing in the hallway as I rushed toward the exit. My heart was pounding, a mix of adrenaline and indignation fueling my steps. I could still hear the girls' voices behind me, now raised in anger and surprise, but I didn't look back. I had given them a taste of their own medicine, and I wasn't about to stick around for the aftermath.
As I pushed through the door and into the hotel lobby, the cool air hit my face, a refreshing contrast to the heat of my anger. I knew I would have to deal with the consequences later, but at that moment, all I wanted was to put as much distance between myself and those girls as possible. It was a relief to be away from their toxic presence, even if it meant walking through the lobby covered in chocolate and embarrassment.
I took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the party and the support of my friends, reminding myself that I had earned my place at Oxford. No amount of mockery or bullying could take that away from me. I was determined to hold my head high, even as I left the hotel, the night air offering a sense of calm after the storm.
I was glad to find a quiet corner in the hotel lobby where I could clean up the mess from the iced chocolate. It was a small alcove behind a decorative pillar, and I felt relieved that no one had seen me storming out of the restroom. My bag had a pack of wet tissues, thankfully, and I pulled out several to wipe away the sticky mess on my dress and hair. The chocolate had splattered everywhere, and I was trying to salvage what I could without making things worse.
As I was cleaning up, I heard a voice call my name with a hint of curiosity. It was deep and husky, the kind of voice that could make anyone stop in their tracks. I looked up, and there he was—Mr. Na. My breath caught in my throat. I was in disbelief. Why now, of all times?
He was dressed in a sleek black tuxedo that fit him perfectly. His black hair was slicked back, giving him a polished and sophisticated look, yet his eyes were soft and kind, with a hint of worry. He looked at me with an expression that was both gentle and concerned, as if he was unsure of what he had just walked into.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. It was the kind of voice that could ease anyone's nerves, but at that moment, I felt a rush of embarrassment. Of all people to find me in this state, why did it have to be him?
I stood there, holding the damp tissues, my face flushed and my heart racing. I could see the reflection of the chandelier lights in his eyes, and it made him look even more striking. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. Despite the sophistication of his attire, his gaze conveyed genuine concern, as if he truly cared about what had happened.
I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, my voice shaky. "Just a little accident, that's all." I gestured to my chocolate-stained dress, trying to play it off, but it was hard to hide the embarrassment.
Mr. Na took a step closer, his eyes scanning the scene. "Are you sure? That looks like more than just a little accident," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Do you need any help? Maybe a jacket to cover up or something?" His concern was genuine, and it made me feel both grateful and self-conscious at the same time. I knew he was trying to be kind, but his presence only made me feel more aware of my disheveled state.
I pushed my hair back, trying not to cry from the sheer humiliation of it all. My hands were still damp from the wet tissues, and my heart was racing. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the chocolate-stained fabric of my dress to avoid meeting his gaze. I didn’t want him to see the embarrassment in my eyes, or worse, the tears threatening to spill over.
“It’s fine, really,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked slightly. I was still in disbelief that it was Mr. Na standing there, concerned about me. This was the same Mr. Na who was fierce and strict during lectures, who could command a room with a single word. But now, he was completely different, his demeanor soft and caring.
He took a step closer, his expression gentle but still filled with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay if you’re not. I can help you find something to cover up, or we can find someone to give you a ride home.” His kindness felt almost surreal, given how he usually commanded respect with his strictness and high expectations in the classroom.
I shook my head, trying to muster a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” I said, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. “It’s just a little mishap, that’s all. I can handle it.” I didn’t want him to go out of his way to help me, not when I was feeling so vulnerable and exposed.
But he didn’t seem convinced. His eyes lingered on my chocolate-stained dress, then returned to my face, where he seemed to read the emotions I was trying to hide. It was strange to see him like this, so different from the stern lecturer I was used to. His voice was calm and understanding, his usual intensity replaced by a softness that made me feel like I could trust him.
Mr. Na looked at me with concern, then glanced at my chocolate-stained dress. He hesitated for a moment, then without a word, he removed his jacket and gently draped it over my shoulders, covering the worst of the mess. I felt the warmth of the fabric and the comforting scent of his cologne. It made me feel a little more secure, even as my eyes welled up with tears. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the anger and humiliation were hard to contain.
He gestured for me to follow him, his touch light but guiding. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's find a place where you can clean up." He led me away from the crowded parts of the hotel, toward a quieter bathroom in a different wing. It wasn't the same one where I had encountered those mean girls, which was a relief.
He waited outside while I cleaned up, his presence a calming influence in the otherwise empty corridor. I used the wet tissues to wipe the chocolate off my face and attempted to tidy my hair as best as I could. The stain on my dress was mostly hidden under his jacket, but I could still feel the sticky residue on my skin. It was uncomfortable, but knowing that he was just outside made it easier to deal with.
When I stepped out, Mr. Na smiled gently. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I nodded, trying to keep my emotions in check. I didn't want to break down in front of him, not after he'd been so kind to me.
He led me back to the hotel lobby, which was now almost deserted. It was late, and most of the guests had already left. I glanced outside, hoping to find a taxi, but the streets were empty. Mr. Na noticed my hesitation and offered, "I can give you a ride home if you need it. It's no trouble."
I hesitated, not wanting to impose, but the thought of walking back alone in my current state was daunting. "Are you sure?" I asked, trying to hide my excitement. He was my crush, after all, the one I had fallen out of love with, or so I thought. But now, those old feelings seemed to be resurfacing, and I could feel my heart racing.
"Of course," he replied with a reassuring smile. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I'd feel better knowing you got home safely." His words were simple, but they carried a weight of sincerity that made me feel at ease. I nodded and agreed to the ride, my excitement bubbling beneath the surface.
As we walked toward his car, I couldn't help but think about how much had changed. I thought I had moved on from my crush on him, but now, it felt like those feelings were emerging again, stronger than ever. It was a mixture of excitement and nerves, a reminder that sometimes, even when you think you've moved on, the heart has a way of finding its own path.
The car was immaculate, with a faint scent of leather and a hint of cologne, matching the scent of his jacket. I slid into the passenger seat, feeling the coolness of the upholstery against my skin. It was a luxurious vehicle, clearly well-maintained, reflecting his meticulous nature.
Mr. Na got in on the driver’s side and started the engine, the soft purr breaking the silence of the night. The dashboard lights cast a gentle glow, illuminating his face in a way that made his features stand out even more. The air inside the car was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night outside.
As he drove through the mostly empty streets, I felt a mix of emotions. Part of me was still embarrassed about what had happened, but another part was grateful for his kindness. The soft music playing on the car radio, combined with the gentle motion of the car, created a surprisingly relaxing atmosphere. I kept glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to be obvious, but he seemed focused on the road, his expression calm and composed.
“Do you live far from here?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was gentle, lacking the sternness he often had during lectures.
“Not too far,” I replied, giving him directions. I felt a bit nervous, unsure of what to say or how to act. This was my strict lecturer, the one who usually commanded the classroom with an iron will, yet here he was, giving me a ride home like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The conversation was light and casual as we drove through the quiet streets. He asked about my studies and how I was planning to spend my summer holidays. I answered with simple responses, still trying to gauge the situation. There was something about the way he spoke, the softness in his tone, that made me feel at ease despite the awkward circumstances.
As we approached my dorm, I pointed out the building. Mr. Na pulled up to the entrance and parked the car. Before I could thank him, he turned to me with a smile that seemed to light up the dimly lit interior.
“I’m glad I could help,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle gaze. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I want to make sure my students are taken care of.”
His words were kind, but they also carried a weight that I couldn’t quite define. I thanked him, my heart racing from the unexpected kindness and the warmth of his smile.
But just as I was about to step out, he reached across and gently pulled my hand. His touch was light but firm enough to stop me from leaving. The sudden contact sent a jolt through my system, my heart skipping a beat as I looked at him in surprise. There was something in his eyes—an intensity I hadn’t seen before.
“Wait,” he said, his voice low and steady, but I could hear the underlying tension. He didn’t let go of my hand, his fingers wrapped gently around mine. The moment felt electric, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t quite define.
I was in disbelief. What was he doing? This was Mr. Na, the stern lecturer who was always so composed, so in control. And now, he was holding my hand, looking at me with an expression that seemed to speak volumes. The tension between us was palpable, the space within the car suddenly feeling much smaller.
“There’s something I need to say,” he continued, his eyes locked on mine. His grip on my hand tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know he was serious. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”
My mind raced. What was he talking about? Was he about to say what I thought he was going to say? The possibility seemed impossible, yet the intensity in his gaze suggested otherwise. I could feel my pulse quickening, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn’t just a casual conversation—it was something more, something that could change everything.
“I like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than just as a student. I know this is unexpected, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.” His words hung in the air, the silence that followed heavy with anticipation.
I was stunned, my mind struggling to process what he had just said. My first reaction was disbelief—this couldn’t be real. But his eyes were sincere, and the way he held my hand suggested that he meant every word. I felt a rush of emotions—confusion, excitement, uncertainty—all swirling together in a dizzying whirlwind.
“What?” I finally managed to say, my voice shaky. It was all I could think of, my thoughts racing too quickly to form coherent sentences. The tension between us was almost unbearable, the space in the car feeling like it was closing in. I knew that whatever I said next would have consequences, that this was a moment that couldn’t be taken back.
Mr. Na waited, his gaze unwavering, his grip on my hand a constant reminder of the connection between us. I had no idea what to do or say, but I knew that this was a turning point—one that would change everything.
He held my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and I could feel the rising tension between us. His eyes were soft yet intense, conveying a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I appreciate the way you appreciate my hard work," he said, his words measured but filled with sincerity. "I know I can be strict in class, but you were always fully focused. You worked hard, and it showed in your academic performance." His eyes never left mine, and I could feel my heart racing as he continued. "And the way you smile when I pull out those silly jokes during lessons—it flutters my heart. It really does."
I stared at him in disbelief and nervousness. This was the same Mr. Na who commanded respect in the classroom, and yet here he was, speaking to me like we were equals. It was almost surreal, the way his demeanor shifted from stern to affectionate. The tension in the car grew, a palpable charge in the air, and I knew he was waiting for my response.
He hesitated, as if unsure of how to proceed. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable," he said, his voice softening. "But we're not that far apart in age, and I just started my career as a lecturer earlier than most. I don't want to pressure you, so if you can't agree with my feelings, just ignore what I said. We can just stay as—" He didn't get to finish his sentence.
I leaned in and kissed him. At first, it was gentle, almost tentative, but then it grew more intense, our lips pressing firmly together. His surprise melted into warmth as he responded, the kiss becoming deeper, more passionate. The tension between us exploded into a rush of emotion, and I could feel the heat building as our kiss grew steamy.
We pulled away, both of us breathless, our faces close, our eyes locked. He smiled, his expression a mix of joy and relief. It was clear we both knew the signs—this wasn't just a fleeting moment. We liked each other, and the kiss had confirmed it.
He chuckled, breaking the silence. "I think you might need to take a shower," he said, gesturing to the chocolate stains on my dress. I laughed, the sound filled with warmth, and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
"Thanks again," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I'll see you soon."
"Goodnight," he replied, his smile never fading.
I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye, watching as he waited until I entered my apartment building. The night had taken a surprising turn, and as I made my way to my room, I knew that this was just the beginning of a story I couldn't wait to see unfold.
