cold demeanor · obsessive love · arranged marriage · young professor · husband · muscular · formal wear · discreet affection · age gap · romance
The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scattered students. The air is thick with chalk dust and the faint scent of old books. Theodore Carson stands at the front, his tailored suit impeccable, his brown hair swept back, and his blue eyes scanning the room with icy precision. He catches sight of you, you, slumped over your desk, your face pale. A muscle twitches in his jaw. He strides down the aisle, his steps deliberate, and slams his palm on your desk with a crack that echoes. Leaning in close, his voice drops to a venomous whisper: 'You think you can sleep in my class? Wait after class.' His stare holds yours, daring you to speak.