chapter 11

Minji's pov

It had started as something small.

A simple request for help after class. An excuse, maybe. A way to keep Diana just a little longer.

At first, she had been reluctant, stiff, like she was only staying out of politeness or curiosity. But over time, that hesitance faded.

Now, it had been weeks.

Weeks of watching her linger after the final bell, setting down her bag with that little sigh, rolling up her sleeves before diving into whatever task I gave her.

Weeks of stolen moments—inside jokes murmured between us, playful remarks exchanged in the quiet of the empty classroom.

Weeks of her.

I never should have let it get this far.

But I couldn’t help myself.

Diana was brilliant—sharp, clever, always questioning. She was different from the other students. She wasn’t afraid to challenge me, to throw back my sarcasm with that wry little smirk of hers.

It was dangerous.

I knew it was dangerous.

But I had convinced myself it was harmless. That it was just admiration. That I only enjoyed her company because she was interesting.

That was a lie.

Because I had started noticing things.

The way she pushed a hand through her hair when she was focused. The way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought. The way her laugh—when I actually managed to get one out of her—was soft and unguarded in a way I suspected most people didn’t get to hear.

I liked that I got to hear it.

I liked the way she looked at me now, not with suspicion, but with something… else.

Something I shouldn’t even try to name.

I caught myself watching her too much. Letting my eyes linger when she wasn’t looking.

This was bad.

But every time I told myself to stop—to create distance, to remind myself that she was just a student—I found myself asking her to stay after class again.

And she always said yes.

Weeks ago, I did something completely stupid.

I shouldn’t have been there.

I knew I shouldn’t have been there.

But there I was, parked across the street from Diana’s house, the engine idling, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached.

The street was quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of streetlamps and the warm illumination spilling from her bedroom window.

I could see her.

Not clearly, not enough to make out every detail, but enough to know it was her. The way she moved, the familiar tilt of her head as she paced her room.

I told myself it wasn’t weird.

That I was just… looking out for her. That it was concern.

But concern didn’t feel like this.

This pull.

This need to see her, to know what she was doing, to be close even when I had no reason to be.

I had only meant to drive past. Just once. Just to see.

But then I had stopped. And I hadn’t left.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. I should have gone. I should have put the car in drive and never looked back.

But then she stopped moving.

And turned.

And looked directly at me.

My breath caught.

For a moment, I didn’t move. Neither did she.

Did she recognize my car? Did she know it was me?

Then she took a step toward her window, eyes narrowing slightly.

My pulse spiked.

I forced myself to look away, hands shaking as I shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I didn’t stop until I was miles away.

And even then, I could still feel the weight of her gaze.

That happened weeks ago. She never asked me about it, so I guess she never recognized me. Perfect, I'd say. Im walking around the city, thinking about everything.

I hadn’t meant to end up here.

That was what I told myself as I wandered along the waterfront, the cool evening air biting at my skin. It had been a long day, another one spent fighting the urge to ask Diana to stay just a little longer after class. Another one spent watching her from across the room, pretending I wasn’t waiting for her to meet my eyes.

I had stayed late, pretending I was too busy to leave, but eventually, the silence of the empty school had pressed in too heavily, and I had walked out into the city, my mind restless.

And somehow, I had ended up here.

I was just about to turn back, to finally go home, when I saw her.

Diana.

She was leaning against the railing, her back to me, the city lights reflecting off the river, casting a golden glow against her skin. And she wasn’t alone.

Abby.

Of course, it was Abby.

The girl who was always at her side. The girl who had a confidence that grated on me, that frustrated me. The girl who touched Diana so easily, so casually, like she had every right to.

Something in my chest tightened.

I knew I should walk away.

I shouldn’t stand there, hidden in the shadows, watching something that wasn’t meant for me.

But I couldn’t look away.

They were talking, voices too low for me to hear, but I didn’t need to. I could read everything in their body language—the way Abby leaned in slightly, the way Diana hesitated, just for a second, before shifting closer, letting that space between them shrink.

Then Abby said something, something that made Diana look at her, something that made her realize.

And just like that—Diana kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hesitant. It was slow, soft, like something deliberate. Something certain.

And I felt it.

Something sharp and aching curled deep in my chest, a bitter, unspoken thing that I had never let myself name.

Diana’s hands gripped Abby’s hoodie, pulling her closer. Abby responded immediately, deepening the kiss, one hand trailing up to cup Diana’s face, thumb brushing over her cheek in a way that made my stomach twist.

I shouldn’t have been watching.

I shouldn’t have stayed.

But I was frozen, standing in the dark like some pathetic, unwanted observer to something I had never been meant to see.

Abby broke the kiss first, but only barely, her forehead resting against Diana’s as she murmured something, a little breathless.

And Diana laughed.

Soft. Unrestrained. A sound I had heard before, in my classroom, when she was teasing me. But this time, it wasn’t meant for me.

And suddenly, I felt erased.

Like I had never mattered at all.

Like I had never even been a thought in her head.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. I had known—of course I had—that Diana wasn’t mine. That she never could be.

But knowing didn’t make this hurt any less.

I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to move, forcing myself to look away.

I turned.

I walked.

I left her behind.

Because I had to.

I thought I was just messing around, having a silly crush on my student, but seeing them kiss hurt more than I thought it would. Maybe it still is a silly little student crush, but seeing her kiss Abby really hurt.

I walked briskly through the city, my breath coming in steady puffs of cold air. The streets were still alive, glowing under neon signs and streetlights, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere.

Still stuck on her.

I clenched my fists in my coat pockets, trying to shake the image out of my head—Diana, standing by the waterfront, her hands tangled in that girl’s hoodie, kissing her like she had never been unsure. Like it was always supposed to happen.

I should not have been there.

I should not have stayed.

But I had, and now, I was paying for it.

I reached my building—a sleek, modern high-rise, the kind of place that came with a doorman I never spoke to and an elevator that opened straight into my apartment. The perks of wealth. It had always been background noise to me, something I never flaunted, but tonight, I was grateful for the solitude it gave me.

The second I stepped inside, I kicked off my shoes, tossed my coat onto a chair, and dropped onto the couch, rubbing my temples.

I needed a distraction.

Without thinking, I grabbed my phone and scrolled to the one person who could force me out of my own head.

Claudia.

She picked up after three rings. "Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite emotionally unavailable person. To what do I owe the honor?"

I exhaled, pressing my fingers to my forehead. "I had a day."

"A day?" she echoed, her voice already teasing. "That’s vague, even for you, minji"

I hesitated. I could lie, say it was just a long day of grading and half-baked lab reports from students who barely knew the periodic table.

But Claudia had known me for too long. She would hear it in my voice.

So I sighed and said, "I saw someone tonight."

A pause.

Then, "Oh? Someone interesting?"

I clenched my jaw. "Someone I shouldn’t be thinking about."

Claudia let out a low hum, intrigued. "Do tell."

I hesitated, running a hand through my hair, gripping the strands at my temple like that would somehow make this easier to say.

"Collins," Claudia said, her voice sharper now, less teasing. "You’re stalling. Spill."

I exhaled. "She’s—" I stopped, pressing my fingers against my temple. "She’s a student."

Silence.

Then a slow, drawn-out "Oh."

I could picture Claudia now, eyebrows raised, leaning back wherever she was, probably sipping on some overpriced wine, waiting for me to dig my own grave.

I shut my eyes. "It’s not—nothing happened, okay?"

"But you want something to happen." It wasn’t a question.

I gritted my teeth. "That’s not—That’s not the point."

Claudia hummed again, like she wasn’t sure she believed me. "Alright. Go on."

I exhaled, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Her name’s Diana. She’s… sharp—quick-witted, stubborn as hell, and brilliant when she actually applies herself. She challenges me. She’s not intimidated by me, not like the others."

"Ah," Claudia said, a smirk in her voice. "There it is."

I ignored that. "I don’t know how it started, but she stays after class sometimes—helps me with things. I tell myself it’s fine, that I just enjoy having someone intelligent to talk to, but—" I hesitated.

"But?"

I clenched my fists. "Tonight, I—" I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "I was walking after work. Just trying to clear my head. And somehow, I ended up at the waterfront."

"Somehow," Claudia repeated, unimpressed.

"I wasn’t looking for her," I snapped, but even I wasn’t sure if I believed that.

Claudia stayed quiet, letting me continue.

"And then I saw her," I admitted, rubbing my forehead. "With Abby—one of her friends. And they were just… standing there, talking, and then suddenly, they were kissing."

Claudia sucked in a breath. "Oof."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Oof."

Silence stretched between us for a moment.

Then, "Minji" Her voice was quieter now, serious. "What exactly are you telling me?"

I swallowed hard. "I don’t know."

But I did.

I knew exactly what I was telling her.

I was telling her that I had felt something when I saw Diana kiss someone else. That I had felt it deep in my chest, sharp and ugly.

That I had wanted—something—that I should never have.

That I was in trouble.

Claudia was silent for a long moment. Not in a judgmental way—just thinking. That was the problem with her. She never spoke without meaning it. And when she finally did speak, I already knew I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

"Minji." Her voice was steady, firm. "You need to stop this."

I exhaled sharply, leaning back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. "Stop what?"

"You know what," she said flatly. "Whatever this is. The way you watch her, the way you think about her. It’s not—" She sighed. "It’s not okay. She's your STUDENT! She's what, 18?"

My jaw tightened. "I know that."

"Do you?" Claudia’s voice was softer now, less accusing, but still serious. "Because, Minji, I don’t think you do. I think you’ve been rationalizing it, telling yourself it’s just—what? Some innocent fondness? An appreciation for an intelligent student? Because that’s not what this is, and we both know it."

I shut my eyes. "Nothing has happened."

"Yet," Claudia shot back. "Nothing has happened yet. But what about later? What happens if she keeps staying after class? If she keeps looking at you like you’re someone worth impressing? What happens if one day, you slip?"

A muscle in my jaw twitched. "I wouldn’t."

"Maybe not on purpose," Claudia said carefully. "But emotions are messy, Minji. And I think you’ve already let yours get out of hand."

I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingers to my temple. "I’m not—" I stopped. "I didn’t mean to feel like this."

"I know," Claudia said, gentler now. "But it doesn’t change the fact that you do."

Silence stretched between us.

Finally, Claudia sighed. "Look, I love you. You know that. But you need to get your head on straight. She’s a teenager, Minji. And you’re her teacher."

I swallowed hard, gripping the couch cushion like it could ground me. "I know."

"Then act like it."

I exhaled, rubbing my temple as I slumped further into the couch. "Claudia, I know she’s my student."

"Do you?" Claudia shot back, unimpressed. "Because I feel like that’s something you should’ve reminded yourself before standing in the shadows, watching her kiss someone else like a scorned ex."

I clenched my jaw. "It wasn’t like that."

"Oh? So how was it, Minji? Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds an awful lot like an infatuation you have no business entertaining."

My grip on the couch tightened. "I—" I exhaled, forcing my voice to stay calm. "Nothing has happened. Nothing will happen."

"That’s not the point," Claudia said, voice sharp. "The point is that you shouldn’t even be thinking about her this much. Minji, she’s not just some woman you met at a bar. She’s literally sitting in your classroom every single day. She’s taking notes while you lecture. She’s calling you Ms. Collins. And you’re looking at her like—"

She stopped herself, sighing. "Like what?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

Claudia hesitated, and that was almost worse. "Like you forget you’re her teacher."

I felt something sink in my chest.

I hated how right she was.

I swallowed, pressing my fingers to my forehead. "I don’t know how it got like this."

"Yes, you do." Claudia’s voice was softer now, less sharp, but still firm. "It started when you first gave her detention! You literally figured out her ADDRESS! It got worse when she stayed after class that first time. And then again. And again. And every time, you let her. Because you like having her there, don’t you?"

I didn’t answer.

"Minji," she said carefully, "you are the adult here. She’s a teenager. No matter how smart she is, no matter how much she challenges you or interests you—it doesn’t matter. Because she’s not your equal. She can’t be."

I clenched my jaw, forcing the words out. "I know."

"Then you need to start acting like it." Claudia sighed. "Look, I’m not saying you’re some monster. I know you. I know you wouldn’t cross a line. But this? The way you feel? It’s already a problem. And the longer you let it sit, the worse it’s going to get."

I let my head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of her words settle deep in my chest.

Because the worst part?

She was right.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, inhaling slowly, trying to steady my thoughts. But it didn’t help. Nothing helped. Not when the same name kept circling in my head like a curse.

Diana.

Claudia sighed on the other end of the line. "Minji…"

"I know," I muttered before she could even say it. "I know, okay?"

"Do you?" she asked, unimpressed. "Because you keep saying you know, but here we are, having this conversation, because you can’t get your student out of your damn head."

I flinched. It sounded so much worse when she said it like that.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It’s like I tell myself to stop, to not think about her, and then the second I see her, I just—" I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "It’s like I forget how to be normal."

Claudia let out a sharp breath. "Minji, this is bad."

"I know it’s bad," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "Do you think I want this? Do you think I wake up every morning hoping to make my life a thousand times more complicated?"

"No," she said carefully, "but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s happening."

I let my head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "It’s just thoughts," I muttered. "It’s not like I’m doing anything."

"Yet," Claudia countered.

My stomach twisted.

I shook my head. "I wouldn’t."

"Maybe not on purpose," she said. "But you’re already too deep, Minji. You can’t even look at her without it affecting you. And the worst part? You don’t even want to stop."

I swallowed hard.

Because she was right.

I should want to stop. I should be disgusted with myself. I should be putting distance between us.

But instead, I was staying after class. Letting Diana linger. Letting myself enjoy it.

Letting myself fall even deeper.

"Minji," Claudia said again, softer this time. "You need to pull yourself out of this before it gets worse."

I shut my eyes. "I don’t know if I can."

Because the truth was—

I didn’t want to.

Claudia was quiet for a long moment. That was the thing about her—she knew when to push and when to let the silence settle. Let the weight of the truth sink in.

And it was sinking in.

I inhaled slowly, gripping the edge of my couch like it could somehow ground me. "I need to stop."

"Yes," Claudia agreed. "You do."

I swallowed, my throat dry. "I need to start avoiding her."

"You should’ve been doing that from the start."

I exhaled sharply, pressing my fingers against my temple. "I know."

I did know. I should’ve shut this down the first time she stayed after class. Should’ve drawn that boundary when I first noticed myself noticing her. But I hadn’t. And now, I was paying the price.

"So?" Claudia pressed. "What’s the plan?"

I rubbed my temple, my thoughts racing. "I’ll stop letting her stay after class. No more excuses, no more extra help. If she tries, I’ll tell her I’m busy. If she lingers, I’ll leave.*"

"Good. And in class?*"

I clenched my jaw. "I’ll keep my distance. No more inside jokes, no more… whatever the hell I’ve been doing. I’ll treat her like any other student."

Claudia sighed, like she wasn’t convinced. "And you think you can actually do that?"

I hesitated.

Because the truth was… I didn’t know.

But I had to.

"I don’t have a choice," I said finally. "This stops now."

Claudia hummed. "Let’s hope you actually mean that, Minji."

I shut my eyes.

I had to.

✂✂✂✂✂✂✂

The next morning, I walked into the school with a plan.

Avoid Diana. Treat her like any other student. Be professional. Firm. Distant.

Simple.

Or at least, it should have been.

I kept my head down, walking through the halls with my usual no-nonsense stride, ignoring the idle chatter of students around me. The second I stepped into my classroom, I set my things down, took a deep breath, and reminded myself—she’s just a student. Nothing more. We never had any romantic moments. She doesn't like me that way and I only have a silly little crush on her. Nothing serious. We never were serious, and we will never be. There's NO way i would date my student.

And then she walked in.

And my entire plan started to fall apart.

She moved through the room like she belonged there, chatting with Nora about something I couldn’t hear. I didn’t let myself look. I kept my attention on my papers, flipping through them like they were the most interesting thing in the world.

She took her seat. I didn’t glance her way.

I called roll, my voice neutral. When I got to her name, I didn’t let it linger on my tongue. I forced myself to say it the same way I said everyone else’s.

"Here," she said, her voice just as steady as always.

I swallowed and moved on.

The lesson started. I spoke like I always did—firm, clear, structured. But I didn’t meet her eyes. I pointed to the board, walked through chemical equations, asked the class questions—but I didn’t single her out.

Not like I usually did.

Because I did single her out before, didn’t I? I challenged her, looked to her first, threw her little smirks when she answered correctly. I let myself engage with her in a way I never did with the others.

But not today.

Today, she was just another student.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

But then, at some point, she must have noticed. Because when I passed her desk during an equation, she muttered, "Are you mad at me or something?"

My breath caught. I almost looked at her. Almost answered.

But I kept walking. Kept my expression blank.

"Ms. Collins?" she tried again, her voice quieter this time.

I reached the front of the room and turned back to the class. "Eyes on your work," I said smoothly, pretending I hadn’t heard her.

Her brows furrowed, lips pressing into a frown.

I ignored it. I had to.

By the time the bell rang, I was exhausted. I let out a slow breath, feeling the tension in my shoulders, the weight in my chest.

Diana lingered, like she always did. I forced myself to pack my things, moving with purpose.

"Need help with anything?" she asked casually, like always.

I didn’t even look at her. "No."

She blinked, clearly taken aback. "Oh."

For a second, she didn’t move.

Then, finally, she nodded. "Okay then."

And she walked out.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I did it.

I avoided her. I treated her like everyone else.

So why did it feel so wrong?

Avoiding Diana for one class had been hard. Avoiding her for the entire day?

Excruciating.

But I had to do it. I had to.

The second she left my classroom, I forced myself to focus on anything else. My next classes, my grading, my lunch break that felt longer than usual. I didn’t linger in the hallways like I sometimes did. I didn’t pass by the spots where I knew she and her friends usually hung out.

And when I did see her? I turned away.

The first time was between periods, when I caught her walking down the hall with Abby. I felt it before I even saw her—that strange pull, the instinct to look, to watch, to acknowledge.

I didn’t.

I kept walking. Straight past her, my gaze fixed ahead, my posture stiff.

She noticed.

I saw the way she slowed, like she expected me to at least glance her way. Like she was waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

I gave her nothing.

The second time was during lunch. I usually sat in my classroom, grading, but today, I went to the staff lounge. I made small talk with the other teachers, acted like everything was normal. Like I wasn’t actively avoiding a student.

And yet—some part of me was still aware of her.

At one point, I caught a glimpse through the window, saw her sitting with her friends at a table outside. She was talking, laughing, but every so often, she’d glance toward the school doors.

Like she was expecting me to be there.

I stayed seated.

The third time was at the end of the day. The final bell rang, and like usual, students filtered out. I stayed in my classroom, waiting, pretending to be busy.

She always came by after school. Always lingered, always stayed for few minutes to annoy me purposefully.

But not today.

I packed my things quickly, left before she could show up.

And yet, as I walked down the nearly empty hallway, I felt her eyes on me.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t turn around.

I just kept walking.

Because if I stopped? If I looked at her?

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep going.