The door clicked shut behind Rhea.
Ling turned the lock.
The sound was soft. Final.
Rhea froze mid-step.
"…Why—" her voice caught, irritation snapping through it, "w-why are you— l-l-locking the do-door?"
Ling faced her slowly.
She didn't answer immediately.
She stepped forward.
Rhea stepped back.
Ling stepped forward again.
Rhea retreated again, spine straight, chin lifted, refusing to show anything else.
"You don't need to lock it," Rhea said, sharper now. "This isn't—"
Another step.
Rhea's heel hit the edge of the desk.
She felt it a split second before panic flashed.
Then Ling's hand was there.
Firm.
At her waist.
Ling's arm wrapped behind her, fingers biting into the curve of her hip as she pulled her forward hard—once—until Rhea's back met Ling's front, breath punching out of her.
Rhea gasped despite herself.
Ling leaned down, voice low, controlled, vibrating with restraint.
"What," Ling said, "is going on?"
Rhea swallowed.
She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, refusing to turn her head, refusing to let Ling see her face.
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Move."
Ling didn't.
Her hand stayed at Rhea's waist.
"Don't lie to me," Ling said.
Rhea laughed breathlessly. "You don't own me."
Ling's grip tightened just enough to make the point land.
"No," Ling agreed. "I don't."
She leaned closer. Rhea felt the heat of her breath at her ear.
"But you don't get this angry unless you're doing something on purpose."
Rhea's fingers dug into the edge of the desk behind her.
"I was leaving," she said. "You stopped me."
"With him," Ling replied.
Rhea scoffed. "With a student? You're reaching."
Ling's jaw flexed.
"You chose him," Ling said quietly, "because you knew I'd see."
Rhea's chest rose and fell fast.
She didn't answer.
Ling's voice lowered further. "You said it loud. You leaned in. You smiled."
Silence.
Then Rhea snapped, "You humiliated him."
Ling's breath paused. "I taught."
"You enjoyed it."
Ling shifted, turning Rhea slightly so she was trapped between the desk and Ling's body, but still not fully facing her.
"Don't project," Ling said. "I didn't touch him."
Rhea jerked against her hold. "Let go."
Ling didn't.
Instead, she loosened her grip just enough to seem like a choice.
Rhea didn't move away.
Ling's voice sharpened. "You used him to punish me."
Rhea's laugh came out brittle. "You're not that important."
Ling's other hand came up, bracing on the desk beside Rhea's arm, caging her in without crushing her.
"Then why are your hands shaking?" Ling asked.
Rhea hated that she was right.
She forced her voice steady. "Because you locked the door like a control freak."
Ling exhaled slowly through her nose.
"I locked the door," she said, "because if I don't contain this, I'll say something I can't take back."
Rhea finally turned her head, eyes flashing. "So this is about you losing control?"
Ling met her gaze fully now.
"Yes," she said. "Because you are deliberately testing it."
Rhea's breath stuttered, then steadied. She lifted her chin.
"You don't get to tell me who I talk to," she said. "Or who I leave with."
Ling nodded once. "Correct."
Her hand slid an inch higher at Rhea's waist.
"But don't stand in my class," Ling continued, "and dare me to watch you perform."
Rhea's lips parted. She stopped herself from reacting.
"I wasn't thinking about you," she lied.
Ling's mouth curved slightly. Not a smile.
"That," Ling said, "is the worst lie you've ever told me."
The silence between them thickened.
Rhea finally pushed against Ling's arm—not to escape, just to test.
Ling didn't stop her.
Rhea turned fully then, facing Ling chest to chest, eyes sharp, defiant, breath still uneven.
"So what?" Rhea demanded. "You're jealous?"
Ling held her gaze without blinking.
"I'm furious," she said. "Jealous is quieter."
Rhea's throat tightened. She masked it instantly.
"You don't get to feel anything," she said.
Ling leaned in just enough that their foreheads almost touched.
"I already do," she said softly.
Rhea looked away first.
Ling finally stepped back.
Not because she had to.
Because she chose to.
"Sit," Ling said, gesturing to the chair. "We're not done."
Rhea hesitated.
Then she sat—slowly, deliberately—never breaking eye contact.
The door stayed locked.
Ling voice dropped, sharp and stripped of patience.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Tell me straight."
Rhea folded her arms, forcing her shoulders back, forcing calm into her spine.
"He's good," she said quickly. "I talked to him. That's all."
Ling laughed once—short, humorless.
"Don't lie," she snapped. "I hate that."
She stepped closer again, space collapsing. "When you talk about anyone like that—don't test me."
Rhea's eyes flashed. "You don't get to say that."
Ling's jaw tightened.
"You think I don't hear tone?" Ling said. "You think I don't see intent?"
Rhea lifted her chin, defiance sharp enough to cut.
"You're a professor," she said. "You said that yourself. And I'm your student. So why are you asking these questions from your student?"
The word hung between them.
Student.
Ling's control fractured—just a crack.
Her hand came up fast, fingers closing around Rhea's chin, hard enough to still her words, thumb pressing just beneath her jaw.
"Don't test my patience, Rhea," Ling said quietly.
Rhea's breath hitched. She hated that it did.
Ling leaned in, eyes dark, voice lowered to a warning.
"I let him go," she said. "That was mercy."
"If I see him near you again," Ling continued, unblinking, "you know exactly what I can do."
The threat wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.