I didn't think much of it at the time.
It was raining. Not dramatic movie-rain with tragic pianos playing — just that annoying cold drizzle that makes your socks wet and your soul soggy. I was on my way to the library, hoodie up, earbuds in, minding my business.
Then I saw her.
Standing at the edge of the sidewalk. Alone. Designer coat soaked. Umbrella flipped inside out like it owed her money. Hair clinging to her face. Looking less like a billionaire's brat and more like a drowned heiress who just learned what "public campus" meant.
I didn't recognize her then.
No one did. She'd just transferred that day — some last-minute enrollment pulled by God-knows-who with money.
Most people walked past. A couple guys slowed down to ogle. One even laughed.
I pulled my earbuds out and held out my umbrella.
"You lost or just regretting your life choices?" I said.
She blinked at me. Like I'd just spoken a language she'd never heard.
"What?"
"You look like you tried to square up with the weather and lost. Here." I handed her the umbrella. "I've got another one in my bag."
She stared at the umbrella. Then at me. Then back at the umbrella.
"I don't need help," she said flatly.
"Cool. Then consider this a donation to the Ministry of Not Dying From Hypothermia."
> "…Are you serious?"
"As a 2.0 GPA and a triple espresso."
She took it, slowly. Like she was waiting for a punchline or a catch but there wasn't one.
"Oh—also, you coming in or just planning to glare at the rain all day?" I asked, holding the door open behind me.
She didn't answer. Just followed, quietly.
I walked off before she could say anything else.
No name exchange. No flirty smile. Just a cold girl, an umbrella, and a nerd in a hoodie too old to be worn unironically.
I didn't know I'd lit a fuse.
---
Back to Econ 101.
I'm still in shock. She's still in my lap.
People are whispering like we're starring in the weirdest version of Fifty Shades: College Edition.
And then it happened.
Professor Halifax, the man who once yelled at someone for sneezing too loud, finally noticed the chaos.
"What in God's name—young lady!" he barked, slamming his hand on the podium. "Get off that student immediately!"
She didn't move.
He turned red. "Name. Now!"
She smiled slowly. Then stood, smoothing her skirt, voice sharp enough to slice glass.
"Celestia Valentina Moreau."
The room went dead silent.
Halifax blinked. "Pardon… what?"
"Celestia. Valentina. Moreau," she repeated, enunciating every syllable like she'd said this in boardrooms before.
Halifax paled.
"I—I see," he muttered, throat suddenly dry. "I wasn't aware… my apologies, Miss Moreau. Carry on."
Carry on?
Bro folded like a lawn chair.
The class? Losing it internally. I saw a guy Google her name right there in his lap. The other girl two rows over? Nearly dropped her vape.
I, meanwhile, sat frozen.
Because she sat back down.
On my lap.
And whispered in my ear, "You should've never given me that umbrella."
And in that moment, I knew three things:
1. I was screwed.
2. Halifax was scared of her.
3. I really should've kept my damn umbrella.