Chapter 4
The next lecture ended with the usual rush of students spilling into the corridor, but Chiamaka lingered behind, her books clutched tightly to her chest. Her heartbeat was still racing from yesterday's session. The memory of Professor Eze leaning over her desk, his presence magnetic and intense, replayed in her mind like a loop she couldn't escape.
She debated going straight to the hostel, but something held her back. The office door seemed to call her, promising more than just academic lessons. She wasn't sure if she was ready—or if she even wanted to resist.
Footsteps echoed behind her. She froze.
"Chiamaka," he said, his voice low, deliberate, commanding.
Her stomach twisted as she turned. Professor Eze stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes studying her. He exuded an effortless confidence that made her knees weak.
"Sir," she said softly, trying to mask her racing pulse.
"You seem distracted again," he remarked, stepping closer. Each movement was deliberate, calculated, yet graceful, like a predator testing its prey.
Chiamaka's fingers fidgeted with her books. "I… I've been trying to review my notes," she murmured, her voice barely audible.
He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile brushing his lips. "Good. But reviewing alone can only teach you so much. Observation… experience… that's what matters."
Her heart skipped. The words sounded innocent, academic even—but the way he looked at her made them charged with something more. Something forbidden.
He gestured toward the office. "Come. A few minutes. Just us."
Chiamaka's breath hitched. Could she? Should she? Her mind raced with warnings—rules, ethics, gossip—but the pull she felt toward him was undeniable. She nodded almost imperceptibly and followed him inside.
Once inside, he closed the door quietly. The world outside seemed to vanish. The air felt heavier, thick with anticipation.
"Sit," he said, motioning to the chair opposite his desk.
Chiamaka lowered herself into it, hands trembling slightly. He remained standing for a moment, studying her, as if weighing her readiness.
"Yesterday, you showed courage," he began, his voice softer now, more intimate. "But courage is just the beginning. Today, you need to push past hesitation. Understand the subtleties, the nuances… the things most students fail to notice."
She opened her notebook, trying to focus on the formulas, the theories, the lessons. But every time she glanced up, he was there, watching, studying, measuring. Her pulse quickened.
He leaned over her desk to point at an error. Their hands brushed—lightly, seemingly accidental—but the effect was electric. Chiamaka's breath caught. She forced herself to concentrate, to focus on the problem, but her mind betrayed her, wandering to the warmth of his presence.
"Good," he said finally, straightening. "You're learning faster than most."
Chiamaka's cheeks flushed. "Th-thank you, sir," she whispered.
He walked slowly around the desk, eyes never leaving her. "Understanding is more than formulas. It's awareness. Timing. Observation. And sometimes… intuition. Can you handle that?"
She swallowed hard. "I… I'll try, sir."
He stopped behind her chair, his presence overwhelming. "Good. Because real lessons… are not confined to textbooks."
Chiamaka's heart raced. She felt trapped between fear and curiosity, excitement and propriety. Every fiber of her body was alert, every sense heightened.
A sudden knock on the door startled her. "Chia! Are you coming?" It was Nneka, her voice cheerful from the corridor.
Professor Eze's eyes narrowed, not in anger, but intensity. "Ignore them," he said softly. "Focus. Your moment is here, not out there."
Chiamaka nodded, trying to steady her racing thoughts. She picked up her pen again, forcing herself to tackle the new problem set he handed her. Each correct answer brought a small nod from him, each misstep a faint correction, and each interaction pulled her deeper into an unspoken connection she couldn't name.
Hours seemed to pass in minutes. The session ended too soon, leaving Chiamaka both exhilarated and unsettled.
"Tomorrow," he said as she rose to leave, "we will go further. Prepare yourself—mentally and… emotionally."
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she left the office. The corridor seemed longer, the campus noisier, yet she barely noticed. Every glance from other students felt like a ripple, yet she was consumed entirely by the office, by him, by the tension that refused to fade.
Her phone buzzed that evening. Another message:
"Focus, courage, and awareness. Tomorrow… deeper still."
Chiamaka's fingers shook as she read it. She knew she was venturing into dangerous curiosity, yet she couldn't resist.
And as she lay awake that night, the thought that tomorrow might change everything again, left her both terrified and thrilled.
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Cliffhanger: The next private session promises to escalate the tension further, pushing Chiamaka and Professor Eze closer, while readers are left wondering how far their curiosity will take them.
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