Ava's pulse raced as Mrs. Britney brushed past her, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air. Her fingers tightened around the assignment, knuckles white, as if it were her only shield.
"I didn't come to cause trouble. I just wanted to give you my assignment," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She kept her eyes low, unwilling, yet unable, to escape the weight of Mr. Charles' gaze.
A slow grin curved across his lips. "I don't buy that." His hand lifted, his finger pointing down toward the unmistakable bulge in his trousers. "Do you want this too?"
Ava's breath caught in her throat, her eyes involuntarily flickering downward before she quickly looked away, heat rising to her cheeks. So this is who he really is behind closed doors? All this time, I thought he was just strict... but he's worse. He's dangerous.
"I don't want anything from you!" she snapped, her voice trembling. Pulling herself free from his touch, she all but slammed her assignment onto his desk, stacking it hastily on top of the others.
But before she could step away, Charles moved swiftly, his arms caging her in. His palms pressed against the edge of the desk, trapping her body between the solid wood and the rigid line of his chest. He leaned in so close that her breath hitched, his presence suffocating.
"Just know one thing..." His forehead pressed lightly against hers, a grin still tugging at his lips, but his eyes were sharp, merciless. Cold. "If you dare breathe a word about this, I'll tell your parents that you make out with men."
The words cut through her like a knife. Her lips quivered, and her gaze darted away from him, shame tightening her throat. He saw...? No... I didn't have a choice...
Her voice came out small, fragile. "You don't have to worry about my parents. I don't have a family." The confession slipped out before she could stop it, her chest tightening. He was the first person to know.
"I won't tell anyone."
For the first time, Charles' expression shifted. His brows furrowed slightly, the cruel grin faltering as something unreadable flickered in his eyes, pity? Sympathy? But it vanished just as quickly, his mouth twisting into a bitter laugh.
"Nice joke! You're telling me you pay rent and school fees on your own? I almost believed you for a second."
But Ava didn't laugh. She didn't defend herself. A single tear slipped down her cheek, betraying her silence, before she quickly wiped it away.
"I'm not lying to you," she whispered. "I'm being honest."
His eyes widened briefly, but he hardened almost immediately, scoffing. "You're really good at acting, aren't you? Those crocodile tears might work on others, but not on me. You're putting on this act so I'll go easy on you."
Ava let out a shaky sigh, her shoulders slumping. She realized, showing him her pain had only made him mock her more. Without another word, she turned and walked out, closing the office door gently behind her, even though her heart was anything but gentle, it was bruised and heavy.
When she entered the classroom, her classmates immediately noticed. Whispers spread like wildfire, some students snickering as they eyed her red-rimmed eyes and pale face.
Mrs. Britney paused mid-sentence, her gaze landing on Ava. Her lips pursed, irritation flashing across her expression. "You think you can stroll in whenever you please? You're so late, Ava." Her tone was clipped, sharp, despite the fact she knew exactly why Ava had been late.
Ava swallowed hard, hugging her bag to her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but the hushed giggles and stares from her classmates froze the words in her throat.
Mrs. Britney smirked faintly, clearly enjoying the moment. "Answer this question if you don't want to stand outside the class." She turned to the board, chalk scratching as she wrote:
'A triangle has two equal sides of length 5cm each, and the angle between them is 120°. Find the length of the third side.'
The class collectively groaned, some rolling their eyes at the difficulty of the geometry question.
Ava stared at the problem, her heart pounding. Cosine rule... yes, it's the cosine rule... She forced herself to breathe, her voice trembling as she answered:
"Using the cosine rule: c² = a² + b² - 2ab cos(θ).
Here, a = 5, b = 5, θ = 120°.
So, c² = 25 + 25 - 50 cos(120°).
Cos(120°) = -0.5.
c² = 25 + 25 - 50(-0.5) = 50 + 25 = 75.
Therefore, c = √75 ≈ 8.66 cm."
The classroom went silent. Even the students who usually laughed at her stared in disbelief.
Mrs. Britney's lips tightened, her annoyance barely hidden. "Fine," she said coldly. "You can sit."
Ava let out a shaky breath and walked quietly to her seat, ignoring the whispers that followed her. Her body still trembled, but for once, just once, she had managed to silence them.
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🌹CHARLES' POINT OF VIEW🌹
The store's bell jingled softly when Charles pushed the glass door open, the cold night air still clinging to his coat. He walked with his usual sharp stride straight to the counter, grabbing a packet of cigarettes from the display shelf and tossing it carelessly on the counter.
Andrew, the cashier, and unfortunately his closest friend, glanced at him with a lopsided grin. "Evening, man. You okay? You look like hell." He scanned the cigarettes, the machine beeping before he added, "That'll be 12 dollars, as usual."
Charles shoved one hand into his trouser pocket and gave a dry smirk. "When do I ever look like heaven?"
Andrew laughed. "True. But seriously, Charles... you're 25 now. You've got the career, the money, even the 'stern teacher' reputation everyone talks about. So tell me, when are you finally going to take relationships seriously? Maybe think about getting married?"
Charles scoffed, leaning casually on the counter. "Oh, please. You're one to talk? You can't keep a woman around longer than a month."
Andrew raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Hey, at least I try. You, on the other hand, push every woman away the moment she gets too close. What's wrong with settling down, huh? You think the world's going to explode if you let yourself be happy?"
Charles chuckled under his breath, low and bitter. "Happiness is overrated. Besides, relationships are nothing but distractions. One minute you're enjoying your freedom, the next you're chained to someone's nagging voice for the rest of your life."
Andrew shook his head, studying him. "Man, you really are cold. I think you've built that wall so high, you don't even know what's on the other side anymore."
Charles ignored him, peeling the cigarette packet open with one hand. He handed over the money with the other, pulling out a single stick and slipping it between his lips. With a flick of his lighter, the flame danced, just before Andrew reached across the counter and smacked the cigarette out of his fingers.
"Hey! How many times do I have to tell you?" Andrew scowled, pointing at the shop rules posted on the wall. "No smoking in here. My boss catches even a whiff of smoke and I'm dead."
Charles frowned, glancing at the fallen cigarette on the floor as if it personally offended him. His voice was sharp, quiet. "You owe me a packet." He straightened up, sliding the opened pack into his pocket before turning away.
"Oh, and make sure to pick that up," he added flatly, already walking toward the door.
Andrew leaned over the counter, shouting after him. "Hey! Come back here, Charles! You can't just, ugh, impossible man. Why the hell is he my best friend again?" He sighed and crouched to retrieve the cigarette, muttering curses under his breath.
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The night air slapped Charles' face as soon as he stepped out, sharp and cold. He stuffed one hand deep into his coat pocket, fingers curling for warmth, while the other hand brought the cigarette back to his lips. With a quick flick, he lit it, inhaling deeply. The smoke curled in the night air, hot in his lungs, and he exhaled slowly, watching it vanish like a ghost.
He walked in silence, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cracked pavement of the narrow streets. The air carried the faint dampness of an earlier drizzle, and the streetlights flickered weakly, casting long shadows.
As he passed a dark, narrow alleyway, something caught his attention. Low sounds, barely audible at first, grunts, hushed moans, the rhythmic creak of something against the wall. He froze.
What the...? His brows drew together, curiosity pulling him closer despite himself. His footsteps slowed, measured, almost silent. He edged near the brick wall, leaning just enough to peer into the shadows.
And then he saw her.
Ava.
Her small body pressed against the cold wall, another man moving against her. Her head tilted back, lips parted with soft sounds that made Charles immediately jerk his gaze away, his jaw clenching.
What the fuck? He inhaled sharply, forcing his expression into something between disgust and amusement. So the quiet little genius... is a slut. I knew there was something off about her. If her parents knew, ha. They'd be dumbfounded.
A smirk tugged at his lips, though he felt an odd, unshakable heaviness in his chest. He pulled another drag from his cigarette, exhaling with a sharp laugh under his breath. He didn't need to hear any more. He turned on his heel, his footsteps quickening as he left the alley behind, the faint echo of her moans lingering in his ears like a secret he wasn't supposed to know.
The smirk never left his face.
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🌹PRESENT DAY 🌹
Charles sat calmly at his desk, the scratching of his pen filling the silence as he worked through a stack of papers. His face was neutral, unreadable, but his mind wasn't as still. That memory of Ava, hidden in the shadows of that alley, crept back every so often. A weapon he could use. A truth no one else knew.
The door clicked softly, pulling him from his thoughts. Britney slipped inside, her hand lingering on the knob before she quietly shut it.
"Hey, Charles," she purred, her heels tapping lightly against the floor as she walked toward him. "Are you busy right now?"
He didn't even lift his gaze, flipping to the next paper. "What does it look like?" His voice was cool, dismissive.
Britney tilted her head, lips curving into a grin. She reached down, her fingers brushing his chin before tilting it upward, forcing him to look at her. "Stop acting like this. I know you want me too."
Charles smirked finally, setting his pen down with deliberate slowness. He rose to his feet, towering over her, his voice low and mocking. "Really?"
That was all it took. The tension between them snapped like a thread, and suddenly, her lips were on his. Their mouths moved in a rough, hungry rhythm as her hands clawed at his shirt, unbuttoning it clumsily. He didn't stop her. He let her mark his skin with kisses and bites, red stains trailing down his jaw and neck.
And then, the door creaked.
"Ahem..."
They both froze.
Ava stood in the doorway, her assignment clutched tightly in her hand, her wide eyes darting between them.
"I don't want to cause any trouble," she said quickly, her voice trembling but steady enough to be heard. She kept her gaze low, her knuckles white around the paper. "I just wanted to give you my assignment."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
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