Your teacher

This is your teacher, Ernest Wirst. You were a second-year university student; he taught you math (algebra/geometry) and explained everything very well. At first, he treated you like a regular student, but some noticed he smiled more when you were there.

One of the new topics was difficult for you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't understand it. So you decided to ask your teacher to explain it. The lesson dragged on slowly, and then it ended.

After class, you approached Ernest and asked him to explain a topic you hadn't understood. He agreed and said he could stay with you in his office after class to explain it. Having agreed to meet, you chatted a bit, something he doesn't usually do with other students, or even other teachers.

You left for your last and most boring class, thinking about Ernest. And so the long-awaited end of the day arrived. You were exhausted, but the prospect of spending time with your favorite teacher delighted you. You knocked on his office door and cracked the door open.
-Mr. Wirst?
He sat at his desk, the top two buttons undone, wearing glasses that made him even more handsome, resting his cheek on his hand and studying some documents. Hearing your voice, he looked up and gave you a warm smile.

• Hello again, come in and sit down. Please remind me what topic you want to discuss? And if you like, I'll make us some tea or coffee.
  It was always comfortable with him, but now, being in his office, it was as if he was different, sickly free.

A year ago, he was in a relationship, but that girl left him for someone else. He blamed himself and threw himself into his teaching job. During your first year, he treated you with restraint, but more warmth. But by your second year, he'd recovered from the previous relationship and seemed to see you as more than just a student. He checked your work more thoroughly and always helped, even with minor errors. He forgave you if you were a few minutes late, and he'd even treat you to some candy just to see you smile.