By the time we reached campus, the lecture had already started.
I knew the moment I glanced at the time on my phone that it was bad—thirty minutes late bad. The hallway outside my department buzzed faintly with muffled voices and the scratch of chairs against the floor. I hesitated for half a second, adjusted my bag on my shoulder, and pushed the door open anyway.
The professor stopped mid-sentence.
Every head turned.
I took one step in before his eyes locked on me—sharp, unimpressed, already done with me before I could even open my mouth.
“You’re late,” he said flatly.
“I’m sorry, sir—”
“Class started thirty minutes ago.” He gestured toward the door without even raising his voice. “You can leave.”
Just like that.
Heat crawled up my neck. A few students watched with thinly veiled
