cole

In one of the quiet university halls, the literature professor sat behind her desk, papers scattered before her, the pen trembling slightly between her fingers.
For weeks, she had been living under the weight of mysterious letters sent by someone she didn’t know—someone who always signed with a single name: Null.
At first, she used to tear the letters apart. Then she began to wait for them.
There was something different about those words… as if the writer knew her better than she knew herself.

On a cloudy morning, a new student walked into her class. He sat at the very back, watching her silently. He didn’t take notes, and he didn’t look like he belonged there.
When the lecture ended, he approached her slowly and said in a low voice,
“Your words about freedom are beautiful… but you’re a prisoner of your own fear.”

She looked up at him, her features tense.
“Excuse me? Who are you?”

He smiled—one of those smiles that carry more than they say—and placed a small piece of paper on her desk.
On it was a single line:

“I’m not your student. I’ve been your silent reader for a long time.”

Her heart tightened. The handwriting… the tone… it was the same.
It was him—the hacker who had turned her life into a novel of danger and wonder.

She said, trying to mask her unease,
“I thought you were just a ghost behind a screen.”

He smiled again and said,
“We’re all ghosts behind our screens, professor… you just chose to write, and I chose to hack.”

Then he turned and walked out of the classroom, leaving behind a heavy silence and a curiosity she could no longer suppress.
From that moment on, she couldn’t tell whether she feared him… or was waiting for his next message.