The phone buzzed again.
Not another text this time
Incoming call: Unknown Number.
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the screen until it almost went dark, then answered before I could stop myself.
Silence.
Then a breath slow, measured, familiar.
"Still think I'm just a stranger?"
His voice sounded closer than it should, as if he were standing somewhere in the room.
I forced my tone steady. "You need to stop this. Whatever you think is between us, it isn't real."
A low laugh.
"Real enough to keep you awake at night."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Tell me what you want."
"You already know."
The words rolled through the line, quiet and dangerous.
"You wanted to forget that night. Fine. Try.
But every time you close your eyes, I'll still be there.
Every time you breathe, I'll still be the air you take in."
The line crackled.
"You marked me too, Elina. Don't pretend you didn't feel it."
I wanted to hang up, but the sound of his breathing pinned me in place.
My throat ached from holding back every question that wanted to spill out.
Finally, I whispered, "Why me?"
He exhaled softly, almost like a sigh.
"Because you looked at me like you'd already known my name."
The call ended.
Only my reflection stared back from the dark phone screen, pale and trembling.
The call had ended hours ago, but his voice hadn't left me.
It stayed .. low, lingering, alive in the quiet corners of my mind.
I told myself to move on. To stop overthinking.
So I cleaned, changed the bedsheets, opened the windows.
Pretended I was normal again.
Then I found it.
A small black velvet box resting at my door.
Inside -- a silver necklace, a heartbeat pendant glimmering under the morning light.
And beneath it, a note in that familiar, slanted handwriting:
you needed space.
I'm giving you breath, not distance.
Wear this...it tells me you're mine.
I should've thrown it away.
Instead, I clasped it around my neck.
Maybe to prove something. Maybe because I was too tired to fight.
---
Before class, Mira spotted the chain right away.
She leaned in, eyes wide. "Whoa, where did you get that? It's gorgeous!"
I tugged it from under my collar. "This. This is from him."
Her playful grin faded. "You're serious?"
"Completely. I even memorized his number this time."
She frowned, unlocking her phone. "Give it to me. I'll have my friend trace it."
Minutes later, her phone buzzed back with a reply.
Mira's expression shifted from focus to disbelief.
"Elina… this number's encrypted. Like, government-level encryption. My friend says it's tied to a high-profile network, maybe corporate or private. Totally sealed."
My pulse quickened. "So we can't find him."
"Whoever he is," Mira said softly, "he's not some random guy."
Before I could reply, our professor entered the lecture hall, clapping his hands once.
"Alright, everyone, today we have a new addition to our faculty , someone many of you might already know."
And then he walked in.
The door opened, and a man stepped through.
Tall. Late 20's maybe.
Dark hair with a silver streak that caught the light when he moved.
He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong wrists, paired with a tailored black vest.
Every movement was precise
quiet confidence wrapped in elegance.
Mira leaned close and gasped. "Oh my God, Elina, that's Asael Desmond."
I blinked.
"Who?"
Her jaw dropped.
"You've seriously never heard of him? His father owns Desmond Pharmaceuticals. They're basically royalty in the medical world! He's a prodigy
graduated med school early,
mastered modern surgery and AI systems, and now he's doing his PhD in robotic surgery here. 26, brilliant, insanely good-looking, and apparently single."
Mira whispered, half squealing
"He even has a fan club. Don't ask how I know."
Mira whispered again,
"He's unreal...
Like, how does someone even look that perfect!! "
She wasn't wrong.
Every girl in the class was already whispering, trying not to stare.
Because for a brief second, Asael's gaze swept the class and stopped on me.
He smiled. A polite, harmless, professional smile.
But my chest tightened anyway.
The professor smiled.
"Everyone, meet Dr. Asael Desmond. He'll be teaching you advanced medical research and robotic surgery modules this term."
Asael's gaze swept across the hall, polite, assessing.
When his eyes met mine, everything else blurred...the voices, the noise, even Mira's excited squealing.
His expression didn't change.
But something in that calm, perfectly professional smile made my heart skip.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look away.
Maybe I'd seen him on TV before
his family's everywhere.
That had to be it.
Still, the thought clung to me like static:
Those eyes... I've seen them before.
----
After the professor left,
Asael took his place at the front with unhurried confidence.
The energy in the room shifted instantly
all eyes, all whispers, all quiet breaths orbiting him.
He placed his tablet on the desk, straightened his sleeves, and smiled.
"Good morning, everyone.
I'm Dr. Asael Desmond.
Officially, I'm here to make your lives miserable with surgical precision and terrifying exams."
Laughter erupted.
Even Mira grinned. "He's funny. Like..dangerously charming funny."
Asael continued smoothly, his voice calm but teasing.
"Call me Asael, or 'sir' if you want to sound serious.
And yes, everything you've read online is true.
I don't bite… unless someone operates without understanding anatomy first."
The class laughed again.
He smiled faintly.
"Good. You're awake now. Let's begin."
He started pacing slowly across the room, explaining how modern robotic surgery required not only advanced precision but deep anatomical understanding.
"If you don't know the body," he said,
"the machine will know it better than you and that's when you fail. So, before I let you touch a robot, you'll master the old-fashioned way:
hands, eyes, and memory."
The entire class watched him like he was performing rather than teaching.
Every word landed effortlessly , confident, controlled, magnetic.
I was scribbling notes, trying to focus, but his voice…
It felt too familiar.
The cadence, the depth .. like something I'd heard in the dark when no one else was there.
My fingers stiffened around the pen.
No. It couldn't be.
"Alright,"
Asael said, turning toward the class,
"let's test how much damage I'll be dealing with this semester."
He scanned the room, eyes moving across rows of students before stopping .. directly on me.
Not my name...Not a gesture. ..Just that look.
It was enough.
"You,"
he said, tone firm but casual,
"tell me..what's the main nerve responsible for diaphragm movement?"
I blinked, heart racing.
"Uh… intercostal?"
The room exploded in laughter.
My stomach dropped. I stared down at my notes, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
But then his voice cut through the noise, sharp as a scalpel.
"Stop laughing."
The laughter died instantly.
His eyes swept across the class, calm but dangerous.
"This isn't a circus.
Mistakes are how you learn.
If you think mocking someone makes you smarter, you're already behind."
A heavy silence settled.
Even Mira looked impressed.
Then, with deliberate slowness, Asael added,
"The correct answer is the phrenic nerve. Don't forget it."
He turned back to the board, continuing as if nothing happened.
But the back of my neck prickled ... because when he'd said that last line, he hadn't looked at the board.
He'd looked at me.
And smiled.
Just slightly.
Like he already knew I'd get it wrong.