EVA

Rain always made Kolkata look dramatic.

 The roads glistened beneath the grey morning sky while people rushed under umbrellas as if the city itself was running late. The glass window beside me was cold against my arm, raindrops sliding down in crooked lines while our car slowly approached the massive iron gates standing ahead. 

ST. XAVIER'S HERITAGE UNIVERSITY. 

The words were carved in gold across black stone. Fancy. Intimidating. And honestly? A little too dramatic for a university.

I leaned back in my seat, staring at the gothic buildings visible beyond the gates. Tall structures covered in ivy. Giant windows. Old church architecture. The entire place looked less like a college and more like somewhere rich people sent their emotionally damaged children to become lawyers. 

Beside me, Rose practically vibrated with excitement. "Oh my God," she whispered for the fifteenth time. "This place is HUGE." I hummed absentmindedly. She grabbed my arm dramatically. "Eva, react like a normal person." "I am reacting." "You look like you're attending a funeral." "That depends," I muttered while staring outside. "How bad are the classes?" Rose rolled her eyes.

The car entered through the main gate, passing security guards and fountains and students dragging suitcases toward the hostel buildings. My stomach tightened slightly. Not because I was nervous. Because I didn't belong here. Well technically I did now. But only because my father made a few phone calls to the university director after admissions had already closed.

Connections. Money. Influence. The holy trinity of Indian society. I hated it. Not enough to reject the admission, obviously, but enough to feel irritated every time I remembered it. Dad called it "ensuring my future." I called it bribery with extra steps.

The car stopped near the administrative block. The driver stepped out to open the door, but I pushed it myself before he could. Humid air immediately wrapped around me as my sneakers touched the wet pavement. Students everywhere. Some looked rich. Some looked terrified. Some looked like they hadn't slept in three days. Typical university atmosphere.

I adjusted the strap of my black leather bag over my shoulder before pulling my phone from my pocket. Rose stepped out beside me and gasped dramatically again. "I'm going to fall in love here." "You say that everywhere." "Because I'm emotionally available." "You're emotionally unstable." She ignored me.

I glanced down at my outfit quickly. Black straight cargo jeans. White tank top. Oversized beige shirt hanging open over it. Silver rings decorating my fingers. Layered chains around my neck. My hair fell straight over my shoulders despite the humidity somehow trying to destroy it. At least my eyeliner survived. 

Priorities.

Rose linked her arm through mine while we walked toward the main building. Unlike me, she looked painfully cheerful in a denim skirt and oversized sweatshirt. "Do you think there are hot seniors?" she asked. "There are definitely smokers with commitment issues." "Even better." I snorted softly.

The campus was beautiful in an old-money way. Huge gardens sat in the center of pathways connecting different buildings. Tall lamp posts lined the stone walkways. Somewhere nearby, church bells rang softly through the rain. 

A giant cross stood above the central structure. The atmosphere felt strict. Controlled. Like the university watched everything. Students moved carefully here. Not lazily like normal colleges. This place had rules. I could already tell.

"First lecture is in the Literature Wing, right?" Rose asked while checking her phone. I nodded. We followed a crowd of students inside. The hallway smelled faintly like books, old wood, and expensive perfume. Girls whispered. Boys pretended not to stare at girls. Professors walked around with superiority complexes. Perfect.

My eyes wandered around the giant corridor walls decorated with framed photographs of previous university toppers and directors. Everything screamed prestige. And pressure. "Imagine failing here," Rose whispered. "They'd probably bury your body behind the church." She laughed loudly enough to earn stares from nearby students. I smiled slightly. At least I had her here.

Rose had been my best friend since childhood. Our mothers were friends, which basically forced us together as kids. Somehow it worked. She knew everything about me. Almost everything.

We entered the lecture hall with dozens of other students. The room was massive. Wooden benches arranged in levels. Projector screen at the front. Cold air-conditioning. Students already fighting for seats near charging ports. Rose dragged me toward the middle row before anyone else could steal it. "Perfect spot," she declared. "Average spot." "Exactly. Smart but not desperate."

I placed my bag on the desk and leaned back while students continued filling the room noisily. Some girls were already taking selfies. Some boys acted like they owned the place. A few hostel students looked completely lost. I rested my chin against my hand lazily.

Then suddenly, the room went quiet. Not fully. But enough for me to notice. The door opened. And a man walked inside.

Oh. Oh.

Rose physically stopped breathing beside me. I blinked slowly while watching him approach the desk. Tall. Definitely over six feet. White full-sleeved shirt folded neatly to his elbows. Grey tailored trousers. Black watch around his wrist. Dark slightly messy hair. Rectangular glasses resting low on his nose. And blue eyes.

Not soft blue. Not pretty blue. Cold blue. Sharp blue. The kind that made people nervous. The entire class stared at him. I understood why. He looked less like a professor and more like the male lead of a Wattpad story written by emotionally unstable teenagers. Which was honestly unfair.

He placed a stack of files on the desk calmly before looking around the room once. That single look silenced everyone immediately. Authority. Natural authority. Not forced. Not loud. The dangerous kind.

Rose grabbed my wrist under the table hard enough to break bones. "Oh my God," she mouthed. I ignored her because I was too busy staring. His sleeves were rolled just enough to reveal veiny forearms. That should honestly be illegal.

He picked up a marker and turned toward the board. Every female student watched him write. 

PROF. DAVID D'COSTA.

Well. That was attractive too for some reason. I looked away before I embarrassed myself. "Good morning," he said calmly. Deep voice. Of course. Because apparently God had favorites.

The class greeted him back awkwardly. I looked down at my notebook pretending disinterest. Which lasted approximately twelve seconds. I looked up again. Bad idea. Because he caught me immediately. Blue eyes meeting mine directly. For one second. Two.

Then I quickly looked away. Heat crawled up my neck. Great. First day and I was already acting stupid. Rose leaned toward me slightly. "He is insanely hot." I wrote quickly in my notebook and pushed it toward her. 

Illegal, honestly.

She bit back a laugh. Meanwhile Professor David D'Costa continued arranging papers as if he hadn't just caught half the girls staring at him. Professional. Annoyingly professional.

"This orientation lecture will cover university regulations, academic structure, attendance requirements, and hostel policies," he said.

Nobody listened to the words. Especially not the girls. I tried focusing. Really. But then he removed his glasses briefly while reading a file. And I stared again. God. His jawline looked sharp enough to cut glass. He looked up suddenly. Caught me. Again.

This time one eyebrow lifted slightly.

I immediately looked down at my notebook so fast my hair fell over my face. Rose almost died beside me trying not to laugh. I kicked her under the desk.

She wrote quickly: HE KNOWS YOU EXIST NOW

I grabbed the pen. Shut up.

She grinned evilly. Professor D'Costa continued speaking smoothly. "Attendance below seventy-five percent will not be tolerated." Groans spread around the room. He ignored them. "Disciplinary violations will result in suspension." Someone muttered, "Damn." His expression didn't change.

"Hostel students are expected to follow curfew timings strictly." Now people actually started paying attention. "Students residing in university hostels cannot leave campus without authorized permission." The room became quieter.

He continued calmly. "Any hostel student wishing to leave the premises must submit a signed application." A boy raised his hand nervously. "Signed by whom, sir?" Professor D'Costa looked up. "Me."

Of course. Rose wrote dramatically: 

HE CONTROLS THE ENTIRE CAMPUS.. HELP!!!

I laughed quietly.

He looked in our direction briefly. Not annoyed. Just observant. Like he noticed everything happening in the room even while speaking. Dangerous. That word kept returning to my mind. Not physically dangerous. Worse. Mentally dangerous.

The type of man who studied people silently. The type who remembered details. The type girls got obsessed with accidentally. I forced myself to stop staring at him. Which worked for almost five whole minutes. Then he leaned against the desk while explaining internal assessments and my self-respect disappeared again.

His sleeves stretched around his forearms slightly. I looked up fully. And once again, caught. This time he didn't look away immediately. Neither did I. The entire room faded weirdly for one second. Then he looked back at the attendance sheet calmly as if nothing happened.

But my heartbeat felt annoying afterward. What was wrong with me? He was a professor. A terrifyingly attractive professor. Still a professor. Rose scribbled aggressively in the notebook again. YOU TWO JUST HAD A MOMENT

I wrote back instantly. No we didn't. Seek therapy.

She snorted. A few students turned toward us. I sat properly.

Professor D'Costa finally picked up the attendance files near the end of class. One by one, he checked documents while calling names. His expression remained unreadable the entire time. Students walked up occasionally to sign forms or collect ID verification slips. Normal. Routine.

Then suddenly, he paused. Just slightly. His eyes stayed on one page longer than the others. I watched absentmindedly until he finally looked up.

"Miss Roy?"

My stomach tightened unexpectedly. Several students turned toward me immediately. I straightened in my seat. "Yes, sir." His gaze stayed on me for one quiet second before he slid a paper forward across the desk. "Sign here."

Simple. Calm. Professional. Still my pulse acted stupid. I stood and walked down the stairs between benches toward the front. The sound of my sneakers against the floor suddenly felt too loud. Why was everyone staring? Probably because people loved drama. Or because the attractive professor had spoken directly to me.

I stopped beside his desk.

Up close, he looked even worse for my mental stability. Faint scent of expensive cologne. Sharp features. Blue eyes behind thin glasses. Silver cross chain barely visible near his collar. He held the file open while I reached for the pen. My fingers brushed the paper.

And I noticed it. My admission file. Special approval. Director recommendation. Of course. Embarrassment flickered through me briefly. So he knew. Wonderful.

I signed quickly. When I moved the file back toward him, his eyes dropped to my surname again. ROY. Something shifted slightly in his expression. Tiny. Almost invisible. Not surprise. Recognition maybe. Interest.

I couldn't tell. But suddenly I felt very aware of his attention. Like he was looking too carefully. Then he nodded once. Dismissal. I turned and walked back toward my seat, trying not to think about the way his eyes followed me for half a second longer than necessary. By the time I sat beside Rose again, she looked ready to explode.

"What happened?" she whispered immediately.

"Nothing."

"You looked nervous."

"I was not nervous."

"You fixed your hair three times." I glared at her. She gasped dramatically. "You have a crush already." "I literally met him twenty minutes ago." "And?" I opened my notebook aggressively to avoid answering.

At the front of the class, Professor David D'Costa continued organizing papers calmly like he hadn't completely ruined the female population's ability to think. But for some reason, even after class ended, I couldn't stop remembering the way his blue eyes looked at me when he read my surname.