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L O R E N Z A

It was one heck of a bizarre morning. In just a few moments, I felt both peace and panic-like sipping tea in a thunderstorm, unsure whether to relax or run for cover!

I sighed and tried to focus on Mr. Kendrik's lecture. But honestly, after the rollercoaster of a morning I just had, my brain had officially declared a holiday.

"Don't you think Mr. Kendrik is looking extra handsome today?" my best friend-or rather, my only friend-whispered mischievously beside me.

I shot her a side-eye before turning my attention back to him. Not gonna lie, he's looking way too fucking good today-better than usual. Or maybe it's just the way he treated me a few minutes ago that's messing with my head, making me want his attention more than I should.

"Have you lost your mind, Lori? He's a married man and almost nine years older than you. Just thinking about this feels like a sin."

I gave myself a mental smack, trying to knock some sense back into my head.

But what can I even do? The way he handled me during my panic attack keeps replaying in my head. No one has ever reacted like that for me before.

For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes-fear for me. A kind of fear that said his only concern in that moment was whether I was okay, whether anything would happen to me.

I took a deep breath and looked at him. And in that moment, a shiver ran down my spine-because he was already looking at me.

But not like a teacher looks at a student. His eyes held something intense, almost dangerous. Not just desire, but a hunger to understand, to unravel, to own. A curiosity so deep it could strip a soul bare and still crave more.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the ridiculous thoughts clouding my brain. Maybe I was just overthinking. Yeah, that had to be it.

Finally, the class ended, and Professor Kendrik started gathering his things. But strangely, my eyes refused to leave him. The way he packed his belongings, the way he absentmindedly fixed his hair, the way he exchanged brief goodbyes with students-it all held my attention as if it were the only thing that mattered.

This was dangerous. This was something else. An obsession, maybe?

If Professor Kendrik were a subject, I had a feeling I'd be the top scorer without even trying.

[Time skip to lunch]

After surviving three long, mind-numbing classes, lunchtime finally arrived. And honestly, I had never been this excited for lunch in my entire life.

I had been running on an empty stomach since morning, and whatever little energy I had left had been mercilessly drained by those boring lectures. But now, at last, food was within reach-no more interruptions, no more distractions. Just me, my plate, and pure satisfaction.

That cheesecake I saw in the morning was still living rent-free in my head. I knew the school canteen's food wasn't exactly five-star quality, but hey, it was enough to satisfy my cravings.

Without wasting another second, I practically danced my way to the reception, rushing to order my much-awaited cheesecake-because at this point, it felt less like a dessert and more like my life's mission.

But guess what? Peace and I have never had a good relationship-so why would today be any different?

What do you mean cheesecake is off the menu?! Just three days ago, I saw it sitting proudly at the stall, waiting to be devoured. And now, it's gone? Just like that? Life really loves playing cruel jokes on me.

"Sorry, but since cheesecake doesn't sell much, the school authority decided to remove it from the menu."

I stared at the receptionist, waiting for her to say, Just kidding! But nope, she looked dead serious.

So let me get this straight-just because other people don't appreciate the greatness of cheesecake, I have to suffer? What kind of injustice is this? What happened to democracy? To basic human rights?

Pouting, I asked, "Then what's actually good on the menu today?"

She flashed me a cheerful smile and said, "Green curry!"

I blinked. Green curry?

What in the name of all things holy did she just say? My heart was set on a soft, sweet, heavenly cheesecake, and now I'm supposed to settle for a bowl of grass-flavored disappointment? This was culinary betrayal at its finest.

But does my stomach care about my broken heart? Nope. Defeated, I sat down with the cursed green curry.

One bite in, and I swear I saw my ancestors shaking their heads in disappointment. What in the name of tasteless tragedy is this?

Was I a fucking cow now, chewing on leaves and planning to moo my way through the day?

I dropped my spoon onto the table and dramatically buried my head in my hands.

"Oh, dear God, what kind of cruel justice is this?"

Was it really too much to ask for a simple slice of cheesecake? Just one day-one single day-where I could eat something I actually liked? Was that such a crime?!

I was mid-sob, dramatically mourning my lost cheesecake, when suddenly-

"Would Lorenza Floris please report to the canteen reception immediately?"

I froze. My head shot up so fast, I swear I heard my neck crack.

Wait... did they just say my name? Or was the green curry laced with something hallucinogenic?

I blinked, looked around, and even smacked my own cheek for confirmation. Nope, still here. Still me.

But why the hell was I being summoned? Had my tragic lunch meltdown somehow violated school policy?

I dragged myself to the reception like a soldier returning from war, every step fueled by misery and the tragic loss of my cheesecake dream.

"What do you people want now?" I grumbled, barely hiding my annoyance.

The receptionist, completely unfazed, shoved a medium-sized bag into my hands and said, "This parcel's for you."

I stared at the bag. Then at her. Then back at the bag.

A parcel? For me? Who in their right mind was sending me things? Was this finally the universe apologizing for all the emotional damage it had caused me? Or was this just another setup for disappointment?

"Who sent this?" I asked, shaking the bag like it owed me answers.

The receptionist just shrugged. "No idea. A delivery guy just dropped it off with your name on it."

Great. Super helpful.

I sighed, gave up on my interrogation, and dragged the parcel back to my classroom. Behind me, my abandoned green curry sat on the table, looking as lonely as an unwanted orphan.

The classroom was empty-finally, some peace to open this mysterious parcel.

But wait... what if it was a bomb?

I mean, knowing my luck, I'd open it, and next thing you know-BOOM! Headlines: "Tragic Explosion at School-One Student's Cheesecake Cravings Lead to Disaster."

Yeah, no thanks. If I was going to get blown up, I'd rather it happen privately. At least that way, I wouldn't be responsible for sending half the school flying with me.

But my jaw practically hit the floor when I opened the package.

Inside, sitting like little slices of heaven, were five different types of cheesecake-Blueberry, Raspberry, Biscoff, Strawberry, and Chocolate.

I blinked. Then blinked again. What in the actual fuck?

How did these get here? Was this divine intervention? A prank? A secret admirer with excellent taste? Or had I finally unlocked my manifestation powers?

Shaking my head like a broken fan, I checked again-nope, still five glorious cheesecakes. Not a hallucination. Not a dream. Holy sugar-coated miracle.

Frowning, I shook the package a little, just in case it had more surprises. Out tumbled a few spoons and a neatly folded note.

I unfolded it, half-expecting a "Congrats! You've won a lifetime supply of cheesecake!" Instead, I read:

"Sorry I couldn't treat you this morning like I promised. When I saw your undying love for cheesecake and heard about the tragic betrayal at the canteen, I figured this might cheer you up. Not sure what made you panic earlier, but I do know that good food can fix almost anything. So, enjoy your cakes."

I blinked. Stared at the note. Then at the cheesecakes. Then back at the note.

PROFESSOR KENDRICK?!?!?!

Are you freaking serious, God? Out of all people-Professor Kendrick sent me these cheesecake?!

And these weren't just any random store-bought cakes. No, no. These looked expensive-the kind of premium cheesecake that rich people eat while casually discussing stock markets and expensive vacations.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Can I illegally marry him? Like, is there a loophole somewhere? Because at this point, forget education-I'm ready to be a full-time Mrs. Cheesecake Kendrick.

But I won't lie-my eyes started to sting. A lump formed in my throat.

Never in my life did I imagine that someone-let alone a teacher-would care about me this much. This wasn't just a casual gesture; this was something straight out of a fictional book.

In books, guys only do these things after pages of deep conversations, after late-night confessions, after hearts have already been tangled together. But here? We weren't even that close.

Then why... why was he doing this? Why was he making me feel like I was worth this kind of effort?

A small, unintentional smile crept onto my face.

If he's this caring towards just a student... God knows how he treats his wife. She must be living like an absolute queen.

I took a bite of the raspberry cheesecake, and I swear I saw the gates of heaven open. An angel whispered, "Welcome, you've made it." If I drop dead right now, just know I died in peace-cheesecake overdose, no regrets.

Never in my broke little life have I tasted something this premium. Not because my dad couldn't afford it, but because the man never woke up one day and thought, "Let me bless my child's taste buds with something elite." So there I was, happily munching on street-side cheesecakes, thinking I was living the dream. Turns out, I was living a lie.

I was squirming happily in my seat, completely lost in the taste of the raspberry cheesecake, as if the whole world had melted away. For once, I didn't care how I looked or who was around-I was just savoring something I had never experienced before.

Little did I know, someone was watching me. Not with judgment, not with amusement, but with something softer-something almost fond. As if, in that small moment of pure joy, they saw a side of me that even I had never noticed.

Kendrik's POV:

How... HOW can someone look this breathtaking while simply eating cake?! Is she even aware of the devastation she's causing? My heart is tap-dancing, my soul is ascending, and my brain has officially stopped functioning.

She takes a bite, and for a split second, her eyes widen in delight. Then comes that tiny, satisfied smile-the kind that could end wars and heal the sick. She chews, completely lost in the taste, and I swear, I just fell in love again.

And then... then she licks a little frosting off her lip. I might actually pass out. Forget true love-I've found my religion, and it's her eating cake.

Unknowingly, a smile formed on my lips. A smile that felt different-like something I hadn't worn for anyone else before. It wasn't forced, wasn't something I put on to be polite. It wasn't the usual empty grin I've mastered over the years.

This one... this one came from somewhere deeper. It was real. It was effortless. It was the kind of smile that happens only when you truly feel something-when your heart reacts before your mind even catches up.

And in that moment, I realized... maybe this is what it feels like to be genuinely happy.

.

.

.

.

He knows he shouldn't be watching her like this. Knows he shouldn't be noticing the way she takes each bite of her cake, the way her expression softens with each taste, how she looks so completely lost in the simple pleasure of eating. It's innocent. Completely innocent. And yet, something inside him stirs-a feeling he has no right to feel.

His fingers tighten slightly around the pen in his hand, a silent, invisible battle waging inside him. This is wrong. This is dangerous. Stop. But his gaze keeps drifting back to her, as if drawn by something beyond his control.

She smiles-just a small, content smile, maybe not even aware she's doing it. And suddenly, he feels something ache deep in his chest. That smile. It's real. Pure. The kind of smile that has become foreign in his own life.

Guilt creeps up his spine, cold and suffocating. You have a wife. A life. Responsibilities. He swallows hard, forcing himself to look away, to remind himself that this is nothing. That he's just a teacher, and she's just a student enjoying her dessert.

But the problem is... he knows this isn't nothing. He knows this feeling, this pull toward her, isn't something he can just wish away. And worst of all, he knows he should stop. But he also knows... he won't.