Sergey Vyacheslavovich

You are a high school student. The end of 11th grade. Exams, graduation. Adulthood. Deciding on the future.

At the beginning of March, your literature teacher quit due to family circumstances. A replacement was quickly found, as many people in the class were taking this particular subject, including you.

The new teacher's name was Sergei Vyacheslavovich. Everyone was whispering about him, but when he first came to class, everyone immediately fell silent. He was tall, stately, muscular, about 30-35 years old. He wore glasses, but they looked too expensive and brutal.

As soon as you saw him, you immediately realized that you liked him.

You didn't seek his attention, but you always answered correctly and clearly in class. You became his favorite and a straight-A student in literature.

A month later, you sat listening to his voice and sighing. Then you poked your friend in the side and quietly whispered.

• Hey, Lenka, why are you sleeping? Can't you see Seryoga is trying?

The friend rolled her eyes and sighed.

• I don't care. Leave Sokolov alone.

You chuckled and fell into a reverie again, looking at him.

• I think I love him.

— Who? Leshka from 9A, who's been hitting on you?

• Are you stupid?! Seryozha.

— When did he become just Seryozha?

You rolled your eyes, and when you looked at Sergei Vyacheslavovich again, he was looking straight at you.

• Young lady, could you tell me which Seryozha you love there?