Professor Lucien
Silence, thick and electric.
Lucien gives the barest nod. “Sit.”
Ivy sinks into her seat, cheeks pink. Professor Lucien effects.
I watch her—flushed, focused on her notebook. Like she didn’t just steal the whole room. His attention.
Around me, students whisper. A few nod in admiration.
I grip my pen tighter.
“What’s your name?” Professor Lucien asks.
Ivy blinks. “Ivy Wales.”
“You made your point,” he says, “but remember—sometimes your words matter less than how you say them.”