~NOAH.

The corridor outside buzzed with students, their laughter and chatter rising and falling like distant waves. Noah moved through them effortlessly, his presence commanding quiet respect. Conversations hushed as he passed.

“Good afternoon, Professor Caldwell.”

He inclined his head. “Good afternoon.”

Measured. Polite. Detached.

By the time he reached his office, the noise of the hallway had dulled into a soft murmur. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the comforting scent of old paper and polished wood.

His sanctuary.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, filled with annotated classics and leather-bound editions. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the neat stack of essays on his desk.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

Controlled.

Orderly.

Noah removed his coat, draped it over the back of his chair, and settled into his seat. For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe.

Six years.

Six years since he had become a full-time professor and at such a ‘young age’ too.

He reached for a fountain pen, intending to begin grading, when a sharp knock sounded at the door—followed by it swinging open without waiting for permission.

“Still hiding behind your books, Caldwell?”

Noah looked up, expression flat but it quickly morphed into a stressed one.

“Brandon,” he replied coolly. “Must you always enter as though you own the place?”

Brandon Whitaker grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “If I did, I’d have replaced these dreary curtains years ago.”

Behind him stood another man with auburn hair and a knowing smile. “Ignore him,” he said warmly. “Congratulations, Noah.”

“Hart,” he acknowledged.

Hart stepped forward, extending his hand. “Six years as a full-time professor. That’s no small achievement.”

Noah accepted the handshake. “Thank you.”

“And,” Brandon added with a dramatic flourish, “we’re here to ensure you celebrate like a normal human being for once.”

“I am perfectly capable of celebrating,” Noah said dryly. He knew what was coming.

Brandon arched a brow. “When was the last time you did?”

Silence.

Hart smothered a laugh. “That’s what we thought.”

Brandon clapped his hands together. “We’re throwing you a party tonight. Drinks, music, respectable company—well, mostly respectable.”

“I decline,” Noah replied without hesitation.

“Too late,” Whitaker said smoothly. “We’ve already arranged everything.”

Noah’s gaze sharpened. “You arranged a party without my consent?”

“It’s called friendship,” Hart said gently. “You should try embracing it, besides it’s the weekend, take a little break.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Where?”

Whitaker’s grin widened, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes.

“A rather exclusive venue downtown. Sophisticated. Tasteful. Memorable.”

Noah regarded him suspiciously. “That description alone is cause for concern.”

“Oh, relax,” Whitaker said. “You’ve earned this. Six years of excellence, spotless evaluations, and students who either adore you or fear you.”

“Preferably both,” Hart added with a wink.

Noah considered their expectant expressions.

Celebrations were unnecessary,

Although he had to admit, six years of discipline and achievement deserved acknowledgment.

“…Very well,” he said at last.

Whitaker’s grin turned triumphant. “Knew you’d come around.”

Hart beamed. “Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.”

As they turned to leave, Whitaker paused at the doorway.

“Oh—and Caldwell?”

“Yes?”

“Try to enjoy yourself. It won’t kill you.”

Noah offered a faint, wry smile. “That remains to be seen.”

The door clicked shut behind them.

Silence returned.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

He reached for the telecom and rung the secretary,

“Yes, Professor Caldwell?”

“Why didn’t you ring me first before letting the two gentlemen from earlier come in?”

“T-they insisted they wanted to s-surprise you Sir”

“I see”

The line went silent for a moment before he spoke up again

“Have the IT department send a file on the student with the name ‘Rabbit Ashby’ to my office”

“Y-yes Sir”

He dropped the phone and went back to his student logs. Only his name and email sat in the log.

An hour later, the file came.

An albino with striking pink eyes behind heavily framed glasses stared back at him from the passport clipped to the file,

Records of Rabbit’s exceptional performance from middle school til now lined the pages.

“Why was a genius like him taking Literature?”

Noah was at loss, someone like him could do wonders in the medical field or even the science field. Why waste such good talents here?

He sat there wondering and before he knew it time had flown by and it was an hour to 8.

He groaned and grabbed his coat.