A pair of calm, deliberate footsteps echo through the quiet hallway.
The door to Room 103 swings open—a lecture hall that's neither too small nor particularly grand, nestled within the Faculty of Arts and Design building.
All eyes turn as Professor Julian Lenter steps inside.
Nineteen students, already seated, widen their eyes at the sight of him.
A hush falls over the room, broken only by a few scattered whispers.
"Wow, he's so handsome."
"He's absolutely gorgeous."
The girls murmur among themselves, awe shimmering in their voices.
Even the guys, trying not to look too impressed, exchange knowing glances.
"No wonder the girls never stop talking about him," one of them mutters, chuckling softly.
Julian strides to the podium with quiet confidence, his movements deliberate and calm. He places his sleek black laptop on the podium's surface, the sound of the device settling almost inaudible against the hum of the room. His gaze sweeps across the students, and behind his black-rimmed glasses, his deep, observant eyes take in every corner of the classroom with practiced ease.
He's a striking figure. A sharply defined nose, a strong jawline, and the tall, commanding presence of someone who knows exactly who he is. At six feet, he stands out in the room, his height accentuated by the soft, warm overhead lights that seem to highlight every subtle curve of his features.
Today, he's dressed in a semi-casual ensemble—a simple white T-shirt under a navy jacket, effortlessly blending a professional, yet approachable vibe. It's the kind of look that says, I'm here to teach you, but I'm not here to overwhelm you. He exudes an air of authority, tempered with the kind of cool, understated confidence that makes him impossible to ignore.
As the students settle into their seats, Julian remains poised, allowing the silence to linger just long enough to make the room feel like his. It's the sort of quiet that demands attention without uttering a word.
But it isn't just his appearance that holds attention.
It's the aura.
Composed, intelligent, quietly magnetic. An elegance that doesn't beg for attention but commands it nonetheless.
Nineteen students.
He counts instinctively.
So there's one seat left empty. Perfect.
With a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips, Julian addresses the class.
"Hello. It's good to meet you all."
His deep, rich voice reverberates through the hall, met with enthusiastic applause.
Most of the students—especially the girls—look at him like they're watching a celebrity appear in real life.
At the back of the room, Harry glances at his watch, frowning slightly.
Where is Grace? Did she forget the class?
Julian continues, shifting smoothly into lecture mode. "This semester, I'll be guiding you through the history of fashion design. As you may know, fashion is a continuously evolving industry, shaped by the cultural and historical context of each era…"
And then—
Bang.
The door slams open.
Every head turns toward the sudden noise—toward the door, just a few feet from the podium.
Julian's eyes follow suit.
Then his breath catches.
There she is.
Grace Silver.
"I'm sorry I'm late!" she blurts out, offering a hasty nod before rushing toward the back of the room.
Julian's gaze lingers as she moves through the rows, her presence drawing his full attention like a sudden beam of sunlight cutting through calm fog.
So Grace Silver is in my class…
A subtle smirk plays at the corner of his mouth.
Harry grins as Grace nears, waving to her with obvious relief.
Grace slips into the empty seat beside him, unzips her backpack, and pulls out her laptop, the fluster in her movement evident.
Julian's heart skips—just slightly.
Composing himself, he turns his attention back to the rest of the students.
"Well, these are the key factors we'll consider as we explore the history of fashion design," Julian says, his voice smooth and steady. "Now, moving on to the syllabus…"
In the back row, Harry leans slightly toward Grace and whispers, "Why are you late again?"
Grace, still slightly out of breath, whispers back, "The bus had an engine issue this morning. Totally out of my hands—I didn't mean to be late."
At the front, Julian clicks to the next slide, displaying the syllabus. He begins pacing slowly, naturally moving left to right across the podium. His eyes sweep the class—and then, without meaning to, they pause on Grace.
She's sitting beside a good-looking guy. Laughing softly. Whispering.
He keeps talking, but there's a slight tension in his expression now—barely noticeable, except to the very observant.
"In this course, there will be three group projects. You'll be assigned into pairs randomly at the end of today's class. The grouping will be handled by a program I've set up…"
Harry stifles a laugh and glances at the professor.
Grace, now settled, flips open her laptop. She glances up—and catches Julian's gaze.
Their eyes meet.
Julian continues speaking, his voice not faltering, but his mind briefly distracted. "When you're assigned into pairs, be sure to submit your projects on time. I won't be accepting—"
Their eye contact holds for five seconds. Long enough to feel something stir. Grace is the one to break it, turning her attention quickly to the large presentation behind him.
Wow, she thinks, I remembered him being handsome, but he's even more handsome now that I look at him longer...
Her heart flutters unexpectedly. She forces herself to focus on the slide.
Back in Mellany, he looked amazing without glasses. But now, with those black-rimmed ones… he's even cooler…
She shifts in her seat, avoiding looking at him again, a bashful warmth creeping into her cheeks.
Harry leans in again. "The professor—he's pretty gorgeous, huh?"
Grace turns to him, partly grateful for the distraction, and smiles awkwardly. "Well… I guess… yeah."
Harry chuckles. "But I'm much better, right?" he says, winking and shrugging playfully.
Grace laughs. "I don't know about that," she teases, shaking her head.
Meanwhile, Julian presses on, reviewing the course structure and important deadlines. But his focus is splintered. Every so often, his eyes flicker back to the back row. To her. To them. Talking. Smiling.
A strange discomfort rises within him—tight, unfamiliar. He shifts his attention deliberately to the front row, as if the students there can somehow block out the sight of Grace and Harry.
Since it's the first class, Julian wraps things up earlier than usual—just under an hour, once the syllabus is fully covered.
"Alright," he says, walking back to the podium. "Before we end today's session, I'll assign your partners for the semester projects."
He opens the laptop, and the group-assignment program fills the screen.
"This'll be purely randomized, so don't come to me with complaints later," Julian adds with a faint smile, clicking the assign button.
The names flash across the screen. In a matter of seconds, the pairs are finalized.
Julian's eyes scan the list instinctively—until they land on her name.
Grace Silver.
"Wow! We're in the same group!" Harry grins wide, raising his hand.
Grace chuckles and gives him a high-five. Well, she thinks, at least I'm with someone I already know. That's a relief.
Julian watches them from the front, his expression unreadable.
His voice comes again, cool and composed. "That's all for today. If you have any questions, feel free to come see me after class—or make an appointment during my office hours."
Chairs scrape back. Students begin packing their things. A few girls gather their courage and make their way up to the podium, surrounding Julian with eager faces.
"Professor Julian, when can we book office hours?"
"Will there be a lot of assignments?"
The questions are hardly relevant. They're not here for answers—they're here to talk to him, eyes shining with admiration.
Julian answers their questions politely, his face serene and his tone warm. He's every bit the composed professor, his demeanor unflinching and professional. But even as he speaks, his attention flickers again—his eyes unconsciously drifting toward the exit.
Grace and Harry are packing up too, their movements light and casual.
Harry stands first, flashing a smile at Grace. "Want to grab brunch? Maybe a coffee nearby?"
Grace hesitates for a brief moment, her eyes darting toward the front of the room. Julian, surrounded by a group of students, is smiling gently as he answers their questions, his presence calm and collected.
Grace had planned to approach him—to say hello, maybe ask again for his bank details so she could pay him back. But now, seeing how busy he is, she falters.
He's busy… I'll just say hello another time.
With a soft exhale, she looks back at Harry and offers a small, uncertain smile. "Okay, let's go."
The two of them make their way to the door and step out into the hallway, leaving the classroom behind.
Julian watches them go, his gaze lingering on Grace as she walks away without a word. He watches her exit, feeling a slight twinge in his chest, a strange sensation he can't quite place.
So she's not even going to say hello… he thinks, his mind twisting the moment into something he's not entirely sure of.
A small, ironic smirk touches his lips as he turns back to the group of students still in front of him. His voice remains smooth as he answers their questions, but beneath that composed exterior, a faint but insistent feeling of disappointment rises—an unease that he can't shake, no matter how hard he tries.