L O R E N Z A
The room fell into a deafening silence.
My soul practically left my body as he stared at me—eyes wide, lips twitching like he was caught between shock and laughter.
"Oh… wow," he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "So that's what you've been hiding?"
Heat rushed to my face. "I—I can explain!"
He crossed his arms, a slow grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, please do. This should be good."
I wanted to disappear. Right there. Right then. But no, the universe had to betray me today, exposing my most embarrassing secret to the one person I desperately wanted to impress.
He leaned against the doorframe, pure amusement dancing in his eyes.
"I mean, I had my guesses, but this? This is gold."
A groan escaped me as I buried my face in my hands. "Can you just pretend you didn't see that?"
He chuckled. "Oh, no way. This is officially my favorite day."
I let out a dramatic sigh. If there was a hole nearby, I was diving in, never to return.
"This is some interesting reading material. So, is this why you spend sleepless nights and come to school with dark circles? Because you stay up all night reading this?"
He wiggled his eyebrows, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.
I let out a cocky scoff, narrowing my eyes at him. Since when did he start being so frank and interested in me? Just yesterday, he was the human embodiment of a brooding black cat—aloof, uninterested, and acting like emotions were beneath him.
And now? Now he was standing here, smirking, teasing, and actually holding a conversation like a normal person.
Where the hell did his mysterious, untouchable aura go? Did someone exorcise his inner grumpy cat overnight? Or was I just hallucinating from my chronic lack of sleep?
"This thing you saw today… consider it top-secret classified information. It stays buried in your brain forever."
I shot him my best glare—no clue how intimidating it actually looked, but in my head, I was radiating pure menace. In reality? Probably just looked like an angry kitten trying to scare off a lion.
He just laughed. LAUGHED. Like I was the funniest thing he had seen all year.
Excuse me, did I trip and fall without realizing? Is there a "Kick Me" sign on my back? Or have I unknowingly become the main character in his personal comedy special?
"What's so funny?" I asked, squinting at him. "Did I turn into a circus act while I wasn't looking?"
I stared at him, completely dumbfounded, as he burst into laughter—actual, full-blown laughter. He threw his head back, laughing like a maniac, and I just stood there, frozen.
I knew he was laughing at me. My behavior, my reaction—everything about me was apparently hilarious to him. But for some reason… I didn't mind. Not even a little.
His laughter was beautiful. It wasn't just a sound; it was like a river flowing through the mountains—refreshing, calming, and so effortlessly pure.
I had never seen Mr. Windermere laughed like this before. Smile? Sure, the occasional professional, barely-there polite smile. A teasing smirk? Oh, definitely—but those were always reserved just for me. I had never seen him really laugh.
And now that I had? My ears felt blessed.
Without even realizing it, a small smile crept onto my own lips. I could listen to this forever and never get tired of it. Never be annoyed. Not even once.
"You are quite a character, you know? Something else. Different from everyone."
He laughed so hard, tears welled up in his eyes. As he wiped them away, he let out a breathless chuckle. "God! I don't even remember the last time I laughed like this."
I frowned, my gaze lingering on his face—or maybe admiring it. There was something different about him today. He didn't feel distant or unreadable. That usual guarded aura, the careful restraint he always carried—it was gone.
Instead, he looked light, as if he had let go of something heavy. He looked… free.
And for some reason, that did something to my heart.
The moment his eyes met mine, it was like being jolted back to reality. My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, I quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze.
At first, I thought it was because of the book. The sheer embarrassment of him knowing the kind of questionable things I read. But now… now it wasn't just that.
I couldn't look at him for an entirely different reason.
Because the moment I did, something strange stirred inside me—something unfamiliar, something dangerous. A feeling I had never experienced before.
Uncomfortable, yet beautiful. Like standing too close to a fire, unsure whether to step away or lean in.
"Miss Floris… Miss Floris? Lorenza?"
His voice pulled me out of my daze, snapping me back to reality. My eyes widened as heat rushed to my face, my cheeks burning, my entire body suddenly feeling too warm. Inside me, something flipped—my stomach was a mess of fluttering butterflies, my heartbeat embarrassingly loud in my ears.
What was happening to me? Was I… I was officially losing my mind???
Everyone called me Lorenza. It was just my name. Simple, ordinary. But when he said it? It felt… different. Like he wasn't just saying my name—he was claiming it, shaping it into something softer, something sacred.
For the first time in my life, my own name sounded beautiful. Holy, even. Just because it came from his lips.
"Say it again. Please… my name. Say it again."
I don't know why I said it. I really don't. But the words slipped out before I could stop them.
He froze. Went completely silent. The kind of silence that wasn't empty—but heavy. Like the stillness before a storm.
The air between us felt different now. Charged. Unspoken words hung in the space we shared, stretching the moment into something fragile, something dangerous.
In that silence, the only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat—loud,
frantic, impossible to ignore. And I was sure he could hear it too.
"Lorenza?"
He said it again. And the moment his voice wrapped around my name, my eyes fluttered shut on their own, as if trying to feel the way it sounded.
It was so different.
My father's voice had always been sharp, clipped—only calling my name when he was angry, when he needed something, when he was giving an order. That was all I had ever known.
But this? This was something else entirely. His tone was soft, careful, like he was holding my name in his mouth as if it were something precious.
I had never heard my name sound this beautiful before. I never even knew it could be.
The moment I opened my eyes, tears slipped free, unbidden, unstoppable.
He panicked instantly. I could see it in his face, in the way his whole body tensed.
"Hey, hey—what happened? Are you okay?" His voice was urgent, laced with worry. "I was just joking! Why are you crying? Hey, look at me."
I couldn't. I didn't know how to.
"I'm sorry, okay?" he said quickly. "I didn't think you'd take it this badly."
His voice softened, turning almost desperate. "Please don't cry… I swear, I didn't mean to upset you."
But he didn't know. He had no idea that he wasn't the reason I was crying.
I had never cried in front of anyone. Ever. Not even in front of my mother.
No matter what happened, no matter how much it hurt, I had trained myself to swallow my emotions, to manipulate them, to push them so deep that even I could barely feel them.
It didn't matter if my father came home drunk, screaming, breaking things, losing himself in his own madness—I had never backed down. I had looked him straight in the eye, stood my ground, refused to let him see me crumble.
But him?
All it took was the way he said my name, and suddenly, I was vulnerable. Suddenly, I wasn't strong. Suddenly, the walls I had built so carefully weren't just cracking—they were shattering.
Why?
I had no answer. No logic. No explanation.
What kind of effect did he have on me? And why was I terrified to find out?
He kept trying to calm me down, his voice gentle, laced with concern. But I couldn't take it anymore.
Without a second thought, I jumped to my feet, grabbed the book, and ran.
As I sprinted away, I yelled over my shoulder, "Make sure this secret stays between us, or it won't end well for you!"
I didn't care that we were in the library. I didn't care about the shocked stares. I just ran straight to my class, ignoring everything—including the chaos I had just left behind.
Author's POV:
He stood there, completely dumbfounded.
One second, she was tearing up, looking so heartbreakingly vulnerable that something in his chest ached—and the next? She bolted like a criminal escaping the scene of a crime, leaving nothing but chaos in her wake.
What… just happened?
His brain struggled to catch up. He could still hear the faint echo of her words—"Make sure this secret stays between us, or it won't end well for you!"—like some dramatic line from a spy movie. And then there was the running. In the library, of all places.
He blinked, still processing, still standing in the exact same spot she had left him. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, as if they had been reaching out to stop her. But now, he just looked ridiculous.
A slow, incredulous chuckle escaped his lips. Unbelievable.
What was it about her? What was it about Lorenza that left him feeling like he had been thrown into a whirlwind, completely off balance, completely clueless?
And more importantly…
Why did he kind of like it?
"She's cute… annoyingly adorable."
A small chuckle escaped his lips, but it didn't last long.
Because then, he remembered.
Her tears.
His smile faded as the image of her watery eyes flashed in his mind. Lorenza wasn't the type to cry easily—he could tell. There was something about the way she carried herself, like someone who had learned to lock her emotions away, to never show weakness.
So why had she cried?
Had his words hurt her that much? Had he crossed some invisible line he hadn't even realized existed?
A sudden wave of panic rushed through him.
What if she never talks to me again?
The thought hit him harder than it should have. Would she start avoiding him? Ignoring him? Pretending he didn't exist? The idea made his chest feel tight in a way he didn't like.
No. He couldn't let that happen.
He needed to fix this. Somehow.
At night
After going through an absolute rollercoaster of pain, embarrassment, and emotional adventure, I finally got back to my room, freshened up, and collapsed onto my bed.
I let out a dramatic sigh, staring at the ceiling like it personally betrayed me.
"And to think I actually thought today would be a good day. Huh! Good, my foot!"
The moment I closed my eyes, there he was again.
Professor Windermare.
His face, his laughter, the way his eyes had softened—then the panic in them when he saw my tears. It all replayed in my mind like some cruel
never-ending loop.
I let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing my temples. What is this man doing to me? How had he managed to take over my entire brain like this? It felt like he had wrapped my thoughts around his fingers, completely messing with my heart and mind.
Needing a distraction, I grabbed my phone and started scrolling through Instagram, trying to shove all thoughts of him aside.
And then—ping!
A message popped up from an unknown number.
"Still awake, little miss?"
My breath hitched. My fingers hovered over the screen.
Oh no.
I knew exactly who this was.
I almost screamed.
The phone slipped from my hands and smacked me right in the face, nearly gifting me a free nose job.
I shot up, sitting straight on my bed, staring at the screen like it had just insulted my entire existence.
This had to be a dream, right? Some bizarre, sleep-deprived hallucination? Because there was no way this was actually happening. No way he was actually texting me.
I held the phone in my hands, staring at the notification bar, frozen.
And then—ping!
Another message.
"Or still having moments with your book boyfriends?"
I flinched. My soul left my body.
This man. This man!
Not only was he invading my thoughts, but now he was invading my phone too?!
I grabbed my phone and quickly typed, "Who is this?"
Even though I knew exactly who it was.
My fingers hovered over the screen as I waited. My heart was racing for no reason. Calm down, idiot! It's just a text!
And then—ping!
His reply came immediately, almost like he had been waiting for me to text back.
"How many people call you 'little miss'?"
I stared at the message.
This man! The audacity! The confidence!
I could practically hear the teasing smirk in his voice.
I quickly typed, "Mr. Kendrick, it's late at night. Why are you messaging me at this hour?"
My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before I hit send.
There. Formal. Distant. Professional. Exactly how a student should talk to their professor.
And yet, the moment I sent it, my stomach did a weird flip.
Ping!
His reply came almost instantly.
"Oh? So formal all of a sudden? Where did the dramatic little miss from earlier go?"
I knew it. I knew he was enjoying this way too much.
I could feel my patience slipping away, draining out of my body like a dying phone battery.
Frustrated, I quickly typed, "What do you want, Mr. Kendrick?"
Ping! His reply came almost instantly.
"Nothing much. I just couldn't sleep. Your hilarious face keeps popping into my mind, so I thought—why not text?"
I gasped.
Hilarious face?!
This man just insulted me at midnight and expected me to just accept it?
I ended up laughing despite myself.
This man. This man!
He had officially made me his personal clown. Was I just here for his entertainment? Huh? Did he think he was some royal king and I was his court jester? The audacity!
But then… something struck me.
A thought. A reminder. A reality check.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before I typed:
"Sir... you are married, right?"
I knew the answer. Of course, I did. But I asked anyway.
Again. And again.
Because I wanted to remind him. I needed him to remember.
Whatever he was feeling, whatever this was—it wasn't right. It was forbidden. It was a line he shouldn't cross.
And yet…
I wasn't sure if I was reminding him—or trying to remind myself.
This time, his response didn't come immediately.
He hesitated.
Seconds stretched longer than they should have. Then finally—
"Yes, I am married."
I knew that. I had always known.
Yet, seeing those words… hurt.
A strange, heavy feeling settled in my chest—one I couldn't explain, one I didn't want to explain.
"So, how is your wife? What does she do? What's her name?"
I asked casually, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. But the moment I sent it, something felt off. Like I had stepped into territory I shouldn't have.
After a pause, his reply came.
"She's good. She does nothing, a housewife. Her name is Bella."
The excitement in his previous texts? Gone.
His words felt… hollow. Empty. As if he had just typed them out of obligation rather than wanting to say them.
I had no intention of prying, yet before I knew it, my fingers were already typing—
"Are you alright, sir? Is everything okay at home? You don 't sound like yourself."
The moment I hit send, doubt crept in.
Where did I even get the nerve to ask him that? We weren't close. Not even friends.
Why would he share anything personal with me? I waited.
I saw the typing indicator blink. Then disappear.
Then blink again. Then vanish.
He was hesitating. Caught in some internal debate—unsure if he should say anything at all.
Minutes passed, stretching endlessly. Then, finally, after a long ten minutes, his reply came.
"Actually... it's complicated. "
I scoffed. Ten minutes for that?
What did complicated even mean? Should I ask? Should I even care? He was my teacher, after all.
But I did care. More than I should.
So, I typed— "How is it complicated? Wanna share?' Then quickly added
" Only if you want to. may not have great advice, but I can listen."
And I hit send before I could change my mind.
"Are you sure you wanna listen to my weird-ass married life? It's not as interesting as your smutty books, you know. "
He said it so casually, as if doing me a favor.
I rolled my eyes. Oh, the audacity. Here I was, showing basic human concern, and he was acting like I was begging for gossip.
"It's not like I'm dying to hear it, "l typed back. "l asked out ofconcern— because I'm a good human, unlike some people."
I knew he chuckled after reading my text. I could almost hear it.
Then, his reply came—
"Actually, it's an arranged marriage. My wife and / didn't even know each other before the wedding. My father chose her for me.
Since I chose teaching over running the family business—something he never really approved of—he wanted at least my marriage to be his decision. So, I agreed. "
I stared at the message, reading it twice. Somehow, I hadn't expected
that.
" Wow." The word slipped out before I could stop it. This was straight out of a book trope.
I quickly typed— " So... in that case, you're saying you and your wife don 't have a good
relationship? / mean, / don't really understand."
" Hmm... you can say that "
"At first, we were fine. Maybe we both thought—since we're married, we should at least try to make it work. But as time passed, we realized... we're just not a match.
We don't even love each other. "
He said it so simply, like it was just another fact. But something about it made my chest tighten.
Sympathy? No.
Agony? Not really.
It was something else. Something unnamed. A pull. A strange attraction I had no business feeling.
"l see."
That's all I managed to type before tossing my phone aside like it was radioactive.
Five minutes passed. Five full minutes of absolute, suffocating silence. Neither of us said a word. It felt like we were both sitting there, staring at our screens, digesting whatever the hell this conversation had turned into.
And then...
It happened.
I don't know how. Maybe my fingers had a death wish. Maybe I was possessed by a particularly chaotic ghost. Maybe the universe just thrives on my suffering.
But somehow—somehow—my hand slipped, and before I could even process what was happening, my phone betrayed me.
A VIDEO CALL WAS DIALING.
To HIM.
"OH. MY. GOD."
I froze. My soul left my body. My ancestors probably felt a disturbance in the afterlife.
And then—like a slow-motion horror movie—I realized what I was wearing.
Or more accurately, what I was barely wearing.
A black lace innerwear.
Minimal coverage.
Seventy percent cleavage on display like a fucking buffet.
HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT.
I SCREAMED. Not internally. Out loud.
Then, in a full-blown panic, I THREW my phone across the bed—because obviously, that was the best way to solve my problems.
But no, life wasn't done with me yet.
Because just as I reached for it, I heard the worst sound in existence—
The call connected.
I swear to God, my brain malfunctioned.
The phone was lying flat on the bed, its camera facing the ceiling. The call had connected, and I had zero clue.
Like an idiot, I reached for it—only to suddenly see his face on my screen.
And oh. Oh.
My entire respiratory system collapsed.
He looked... breathtaking.
Messy hair, glasses slipping down his nose, an oversized T-shirt that
made him look too domestic for my mental stability. Like one of those
soft, husband-material guys in Pinterest aesthetic boards.
My heart did some stupid, fluttery nonsense. This is why men are
dangerous.
The worst part?
He looked comfortable.
Like he wasn't the least bit guarded. Like this wasn't the same man who kept his distance, always controlled, always composed.
Like... this was who he was when nobody was watching. And for some reason, that hit different.
I didn't even realize I was staring. Just shamelessly, hopelessly staring.
Until—
OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.
MY CLEAVAGE.
It hit me like a nuclear bomb.
I was hovering over my phone, which meant from his perspective—I LOOKED LIKE I WAS LEANING OVER HIM.
LIKE I WAS ABOUT TO WHISPER SWEET NOTHINGS INTO HIS EAR OR
SOME SHIT.
And the cherry on top? The camera was angled right down my shirt.
The man just got a full 4K IMAX experience of my boobs.
I choked on air. My soul left my body. My dignity? Deceased.
ABORT MISSION.
I let out an inhuman screech, panicked, and instead of ending the call like a normal person, I yeeted the phone across the room.
I grabbed my hair like a dramatic movie heroine and just sat there, frozen.
My phone? Gone. Vanished. Probably chilling in some dark corner of my room, laughing at my misery.
What the hell just happened?
Five minutes ago, I was a respectable human being. Now? I have successfully ruined my life in record time.
.
.
.
.
Kendrik's POV:
Mr. Kendrick's POV
For a solid five seconds, my brain completely shut down.
I just stared at the screen, motionless. Processing. Trying to convince myself that I did not, in fact, just witness one of my students accidentally video call me while wearing... that.
My soul left my body.
I choked on my own breath, nearly yeeting my phone across the room.
Oh. My. God.
This was bad. So bad.
My ears burned, my entire existence cringed, and for a moment, I genuinely considered digging a hole and moving in permanently.
I saw them. Her freaking round, beautiful—NO. STOP. ABORT MISSION.
Merciful Lord, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!
This is not how my night was supposed to go. I just wanted to tease her a little, maybe have a casual chat, not get mentally scarred by an accidental peepshow.
Are you kidding me right now?!
I wanted to look away. I really did. But my dumbass brain is short- circuited. My eyes betrayed me for a solid two seconds before my survival instincts kicked in, and I slammed my phone face down on the bed like it had personally committed a crime.
This is it. My life is over.
I'm fucked. Completely, irreversibly, hopelessly fucked.
I've thought about her before. More times than I care to admit. In the quiet corners of my mind, I've imagined how she'd look, how she'd sound, how she'd feel beneath my touch. I've pictured it in flashes— just sinful little thoughts that I shoved deep down where they'd never see daylight.
But tonight?
Reality shattered every last one of those fantasies and made them look like a joke.
Because Lorenza Floris—in that black lace, hair messy, eyes wide with shock—was perfection. An angel sent to destroy me. A goddamn temptation crafted just for my downfall.
I'm burning. I can still feel the heat licking at my skin. My heart is hammering in my chest, my hands gripping the sheets like I might actually lose my mind.
And the worst part? I'm fucking hard. Painfully so.
I groan and roll onto my stomach, my face buried into the pillow. This is a disaster.
I should get up. Splash cold water on my face. Think about literally anything else. But all I can see is her.
Her flushed cheeks. Her soft lips, parted in shock. Her breathless little gasp when she realized. And her body—fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my jaw clenched. I shouldn't want her like this. I
shouldn't be needy for her. Not when I have a wife sleeping just inches
away from me.
But Bella? She's nothing but a shadow right now. A name, a title. Lorenza is the one haunting me.
I inhale sharply, gripping my pillow so tight my knuckles turn white. My body is on fire, aching, restless. My mind screaming at me to take control, to be rational.
But then I hear it. Her voice in my head. Soft. Breathless. "Mr.
Kendrick..?
Fuck.
I exhale shakily, my body tense, my pulse wild. I can't get her out of me. I don't want to.
And as I lay there, drowning in the need clawing at my skin, I whisper into the suffocating darkness—
"Little Miss... what the hell are you doing to me?"