The vibration of my phone alarm had been rattling the nightstand since dawn, a persistent buzz that finally dragged me out of sleep.

I rolled over and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Waking up is always the hardest part—that quiet realization that the house is still, the air is cold, and I’m alone. Of course. That’s the life of an orphan.

Sadness is a familiar shadow, but today, I didn't have time to let it sit with me. I had college.

I forced myself into a relaxing shower, letting the steam clear my head. There’s something grounding about the morning routine:

watching my reflection as I brushed my teeth, the mundane tasks keeping the loneliness at bay. Afterward, I stood in front of the mirror, the blow dryer humming as I tamed my hair.

I kept my makeup minimal—just enough to feel human. I pulled on my favorite black jeans and a black, body-fit inner, layering a blue shirt over the top. Checking my reflection one last time, I smoothed the fabric over my hips.

I’m a little bit thick, but today, the outfit felt right.

Downstairs, I took a moment for my morning puja. It’s a quiet ritual, just me and my small Shiv Ling, finding a second of peace before the world gets loud.

The kitchen felt too big as I moved through it, but the smell of coffee helped. I made it exactly how I like it—extra sugar—and toasted a quick sandwich.

By the time I reached the bus station and climbed aboard, the clock hit 9:30 AM.

The campus was already buzzing by the time I arrived, and I could see them from across the courtyard: Rahul and Priya. They were waiting exactly where they always did.

"Look who finally made it," Priya called out, her eyes scanning my outfit with a grin. "Love the blue, Ira. It makes you look like you actually got more than four hours of sleep."

"Barely," I laughed, adjusting my bag. "I almost stayed in bed forever, but I knew you guys would hunt me down."

Rahul gave a playful shove to my shoulder. "You bet. I wasn't about to face the first day of Maths alone. Did you bring the extra-sugar energy? Because I'm going to need to borrow some."

"I've got enough caffeine in my system to power the whole building," I promised. "Let’s just get this over with."

We walked inside together, the familiar noise of the hallways swallowing us up. We claimed our territory on the last bench, sliding into our usual spots with me safely tucked between the two of them.

The professor walked in, and within seconds, the board was covered in symbols.

First class... Maths...

Hell.

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The math periods dragged on like a slow-motion nightmare. By the time the third bell rang, my notebook was a mess of frustrated scribbles and half-finished equations.

I sat there, chin resting in my palm, sulking. The familiar, hollow ache started to throb in my chest again.

Why am I an orphan?

Why do I have to do this all alone?

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. Whatever. Just get through the day, Ira.

Beside me, Priya and Rahul were already vibrating with a different kind of energy.

They weren't thinking about calculus or existential loneliness. They were focused on the rumor mill.

"I’m telling you, Ira," Priya whispered, leaning across me to grab Rahul’s attention. "The new Biology professor isn't just a teacher. Word is, he’s Ishaan Khanna. Yes, that Khanna. He’s basically a business tycoon who’s doing this for some weird 'passion project' or something."

"I heard he's huge," Rahul added, grinning. "Like, built-like-a-tank huge. Not your average lab-coat-wearing nerd."

I stared straight ahead, keeping my eyes fixed on the empty chalkboard. "I don't care if he’s the King of England. I just want to go home."

Priya snickered, poking me in the ribs. "Oh, stop being a grump. As soon as you see him, you’ll be drooling. You'll be dripping wet before he even finishes the attendance."

Rahul let out a loud, barking laugh, drawing a few looks from the rows in front of us. "Careful, Priya. Ira’s heart is made of stone today. Even a tycoon can't melt—"

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It wasn't just a quietness; it was a heavy, pressurized change in the air. The chatter died instantly.

The door swung open, and a man walked in.

He looked like he belonged on a billboard for something expensive and dangerous. He was around thirty, but he carried a presence that made the room feel too small.

He was big—too big for the slim-fit charcoal shirt he was wearing, the fabric straining against his chest and shoulders. Tattoos peeked out from his collar and crept down his forearms, dark and intricate.

He had a perfectly groomed beard and mustache, paired with a sharp French haircut that screamed power.

He walked to the front of the room, his every movement radiating a raw, muscular confidence. He didn't look like a professor. He looked like a predator.

"Good morning, class," he said. His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. "My name is Ishaan Khanna. I’m thirty years old, and I’ll be your new Biology professor."

My mouth hung open. I couldn't help it. My brain had completely stalled.

Priya leaned in close to my ear, her voice a triumphant hiss. "What did I tell you? Look at your face, Ira. You’re practically staring a hole through his shirt."

"Shut up," I breathed, though I couldn't look away.

Rahul leaned back, crossing his arms with a smug look. "Told you he was a beast. You okay there, Ira? You look like you forgot how to breathe."

I felt the heat climbing up my neck. I forced myself to look down, ignoring their teasing as I fumbled with my bag. I grabbed my textbook and flipped it open to a random page, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I kept my head down, staring at the diagrams of cells, but I could still feel the weight of his presence at the front of the room. This was definitely not going to be a normal Biology class.

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I sat there, my heart performing a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Fuck.

He looked like he’d stepped straight out of the dark, possessive novels I stay up late reading—the ones with the brooding, untouchable leads.

Suddenly, his gaze swept across the room.

Did he just look at me? Those piercing grey eyes felt like they were pinning me to my seat.

Save me.I snapped my head down, pretending to be intensely fascinated by the fine print of my textbook.

"Open page eighty-nine," his voice boomed, echoing against the walls. "Reproduction."

Oh, hell. Of all the topics. Beside me, Priya was turning a shade of crimson I didn’t know was humanly possible, blushing like a total maniac. Rahul, on the other hand, looked like he was settling in for the most exciting show of his life.

Ishaan began to lecture, his deep baritone filling the room as he discussed sexual reproduction in the human female.

I tried to focus on the words, but my eyes kept betraying me. They wandered to his arms—to the way the dark ink of his tattoos wound around his thick, corded veins.

Why couldn't I stop looking?

Then, it happened again. Our eyes met. The world seemed to stop for a heartbeat before I jerked my gaze away, my face burning.

"Last bench... Blue shirt..."

The room went silent. I froze. I actually froze to death right there in my seat.

"Stand up."

Priya was aggressively shaking my arm, whispering for me to move. I stumbled to my feet, my legs feeling like lead.

"Name," he commanded. Rude.

"Ira... Ira Mishra," I managed to get out, my voice sounding smaller than I wanted it to.

"Humm," he hummed, a low vibration that seemed to crawl up my spine. He didn't look away. "Give me a short note on ovulation."

My lips parted in shock. I looked at him with wide eyes, my mind momentarily turning into a blank slate.

"Speak, dumb bitch," Priya hissed under her breath, nudging me.

I cleared my throat, trying to find my dignity. "Ovulation... Ovulation is the process in which a mature egg is released from the ovary."

He stayed silent for a moment, his intense stare never wavering, as if he were reading things in me I hadn't even discovered yet. "Hmm. Sit down."

I collapsed back into my seat, unable to look up.

"Nice start," Priya whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief.

As he continued the lesson, the rest of the hour passed in a blur of heat and grey eyes.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the torment, I started to pack my things with trembling hands.

"Miss Mishra."

I froze for the third time today. I stood up slowly, my heart in my throat.

"Bring me the previous notes from your old professor," he said casually, though it sounded like an order no one would dare refuse.

Then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

I fell back onto my seat, my breath coming in short gasps. "What the fuck just happened?"

"Go fast!" Priya urged, shoving my notebook into my hands.

"Yes, run girl!" Rahul added, looking far too amused by my misery.

I grabbed my notes and practically ran out of the classroom. I didn't stop until I reached the seventh floor.

The hallway was unnervingly quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the floors below. A large sign hung over the corridor: Private Wing.

My footsteps slowed.

A whole personal floor?

He had his own personal life, his own business empire, and now a private wing in the middle of a college?

I clutched the notes to my chest, staring down the empty hall.

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I stood outside the heavy mahogany door, my knuckles white as I gripped the notes.

I took a shallow breath, trying to steady the frantic hammering in my ribs, and knocked.

"Come in," a voice rumbled from inside. It wasn't an invitation; it was a command that seemed to vibrate through the wood and straight into my bones.

I pushed the door open. The office was vast, smelling of expensive leather, cold air conditioning, and a hint of something spicy and masculine.

Ishaan was hunched over a laptop, his massive frame dominating the desk. He didn't even glance up as I approached, the clicking of his keys the only sound in the suffocating silence.

I set the notes on the edge of the desk, my fingers trembling. I turned to flee, not even taking a full step toward the door, when his voice cut through the air like a blade.

"I don't recall giving you permission to leave."

I froze. My breath hitched, trapped in my throat. I slowly turned back, and this time, those stormy grey eyes were locked onto mine, stripping away every bit of my composure. He reached out, his large, tattooed hand snatching the notes.

As he flipped through them, I couldn't help it. My gaze traveled over the hard line of his jaw, the way his beard was trimmed with lethal precision, and the sheer breadth of his shoulders.

I was burning holes into him, my mind a mess of forbidden thoughts.

"Miss Mishra," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low octave without looking up. "Stop gawking at me. It's pathetic."

My lips parted, a gasp escaping me. My face felt like it was on fire. Before I could even think of a comeback, he stood up.

The movement was fluid, like a predator rising from the shadows. He walked around the desk, closing the distance until he was standing directly in my space—so close I could feel the heat radiating from his massive body.

I instinctively closed my eyes, my heart trying to leap out of my chest.

"Open your eyes," he commanded. The raw authority in his tone left no room for defiance.

I opened them, my lashes fluttering.

"Look up."

I tilted my head back. He was a mountain of a man, towering over me so completely that I felt like a kitten staring up at a wolf.

He looked like the Devil himself—dark, beautiful, and absolutely ruinous.

My subconscious screamed at me: He’s your professor, you idiot!

I gave a small, frantic shake of my head to clear the thoughts.

"Inform the class of a test tomorrow," he said, his eyes scanning my face with a terrifying intensity. "On everything we covered today. Don't be late."

I nodded dumbly, my tongue tied in knots.

"I asked for words, Ira," he growled, his gaze darkening.

"Y-yes, sir," I stuttered, the words barely a whisper.

He reached out to hand the notes back, but I was so caught up in the sheer magnetism of him that my grip failed.

The papers fluttered to the floor. I scrambled down immediately, my face crimson as I gathered them up.

I started to turn, desperate to escape the weight of his presence, when he spoke again.

"From tomorrow onwards, you will not wear these clothes to my campus."

I stopped dead. The sheer arrogance of the statement made my blood boil beneath the fear. I turned back, whispering, "Excuse me?"

In one swift movement, he leaned down, his mouth hovering just inches from my ear. I felt the prickle of his beard against my skin, and a violent shiver raced down my spine.

"The shirt is too thin, and the buttons are struggling, Ira," he hissed, his voice raw and dominating. "I can see exactly what’s underneath, and I don't like sharing. Wear something else, or I’ll find a way to cover you up myself. I won’t repeat myself."

Possessive. Cold. Terrifying.

"Yes, sir," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and something I couldn't name.

"You may leave now."

He turned his back on me as if I were nothing more than a minor distraction and sat back down. I didn't wait.

I turned and ran, my legs feeling like jelly as I bolted for the elevator, finally gasping for air once the doors hissed shut.

What the hell had I just walked into?

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