The hallway echoed with footsteps under the pale glow of fluorescent lights. The campus at night was hushed, save for a few stubborn lamps flickering against the dark.
Manida had just finished her graduate seminar, arms full of papers. She walked steadily, gold-rimmed glasses reflecting the dim light — calm, precise, untouchable.
"Professor, do you always look this unapproachable, even after hours?"
The voice — familiar, teasing — drifted from around the corner.
She stopped. Parin was leaning against the window, arms crossed, dressed simply in a white shirt with the top buttons undone. Effortlessly radiant, she stood out even in the dull corridor light.
"What are you doing here?" Manida asked, frowning.
"Waiting for you," Parin replied without hesitation.
The words struck something deep, though Manida's tone remained cold. "You should be preparing for your lecture, not wasting time."
Parin smiled and stepped closer, taking part of the stack from her hands. Their fingers brushed — a fleeting touch, but it froze the air.
"You know," Parin said softly, "you never ask for help. Even with something as trivial as this — always carrying everything alone."
"I don't need anyone's help."
But Parin didn't let go. Her gaze searched Manida's face, probing, as if trying to read what lay behind that practiced composure.
A gust of wind swept through the open window, scattering papers across the floor. Both of them bent to pick them up — and almost collided.
For a brief second, their faces were inches apart, close enough to feel the other's breath. Manida froze, then quickly stepped back, a faint blush betraying her calm.
Parin's lips curved. "So, you can get flustered."
Before Manida could reply, a few students passed by. Their whispers trailed behind:
"Looks like the professors are… close."
Her expression instantly hardened. Gathering the papers, she strode off without a word.
Parin watched her leave, a quiet smile playing at her lips.
——
Later that night, Manida sat alone at her desk, red pen in hand. The steady scratch of ink against paper should have calmed her, but her mind kept replaying the scene — the touch, the laughter, Parin's eyes.
She knew the danger. Rumors could spread easily; professors like them were always watched. Yet the more she tried to suppress that restless flicker inside, the more vivid it became.
——
Friday evening brought a small faculty reception. Manida hadn't wanted to attend, but duty left her no choice. In a dark dress and tailored jacket, she looked every bit the composed scholar.
Soft music filled the room as scholars mingled, exchanging polite smiles.
"Didn't expect to see you here," came Parin's voice again.
She wore an elegant gown tonight — poised yet daring. Holding her glass, she approached, her eyes lingering briefly on Manida's neckline before lifting in a knowing smile.
"This is a professional event," Manida murmured. "Behave."
"I am behaving," Parin whispered, stepping closer. "Just… sharing a drink with you."
Their glasses touched with a sharp, crystalline chime — a sound that seemed to stretch between them, fragile and electric.
Both women knew, though neither would say it: this unspoken tension was only growing stronger.
——
When the event ended, Manida walked back through the quiet campus. The night wind stirred the trees, cool against her skin.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
"Professor."
She turned. Under the streetlight stood Parin, her shadow long across the pavement, her gaze unwavering.
"You looked beautiful tonight," she said softly.
Manida's heart skipped — just once — before she forced her voice low and steady. "Don't say things like that."
She turned and walked away, but no pace could steady the erratic rhythm in her chest.
Because deep down, she knew — Parin was the fire she should stay away from.
And yet, she was already too close to the flame.