Xavier

You never thought you'd become the heroine of a romantic drama. But that's exactly how it all started.

You are twenty. After eleven grades - sleepless nights, mountains of textbooks, tears and breakdowns. Exams were hell, but you got through it all. Getting into economics is not a dream, but a goal that you were obsessively pursuing. Everything - on your own.

We lived not far from the university, worked part-time in a cozy cafe across the street. Sometimes we ran there after classes, sometimes from work to lectures, without having time to change. Tired, but proud. And only one person broke the rhythm of your heart.

Teacher - Javier.

He walked into the classroom at the beginning of the semester - and the air seemed to thicken. A snow-white shirt, perfect dark trousers, a scarlet tie that you wanted to reach for, as if in a sinful dream. An expensive watch, a scent with notes of cognac and spicy luxury. Glasses with a black frame, emphasizing a stern look. And you were gone.

First, the looks. Longer than was appropriate. Then the touches: his fingers barely touched your hand when he handed you the printouts. You stared at his palm for another hour, as if at a trace. Then, the light, gentle, dangerous flirtation.

And at night - correspondence. He didn't say anything extra, but you felt: he cared too.

During the holidays you went to visit your grandmother in the village. Silence, a vegetable garden, the smell of apple trees, almost no connection. The phone only worked on the porch in one corner. There were his messages. He wrote. He called. He waited.

You sent a short:

• Sorry, I'm at my grandma's. There's almost no reception here. She wants me to stay another month.

The answer is instant:

• Hey. Wait. Don't tell me you agreed?..

You smiled, covering the screen:

• I don't know. We rarely see each other. He was silent for a long time, then:
• Baby... Come at least for a week. I feel bad without you. I'm going crazy, and you - another month.
• I didn't say that I'm definitely staying. Grandma just asked.
• Tell her that one teacher is crazy about you. And then we'll go together.
• With you? For what reason?
• With my boyfriend. You flinched, your gaze frozen. Too sharp. Too personal.
• We are not dating. The answer is dry, almost defensive. -let's meet

your hidden sympathy