Clarissa’s heart skipped. Lifting her eyes, she offered a soft smile, the kind that worked best when she was in trouble.
“Professor, I’m just filling in for a friend,” she said, voice gentle and sincere. “She wasn’t feeling well today, so I took her place. She’ll make up the work, I promise. And as for your suit—I’ll cover the dry cleaning or pay double the market price. I'm really sorry about the coffee.”
But Lawrence simply tilted his head, his lips quirking at the corner. “Lawrence,” he said. “Call Lawrence. And you are?”
“Clarissa…” she replied hesitantly, not sure what ga he was playing.
“You don’t need to worry about the suit,” Lawrence said, brushing off an invisible speck from his sleeve. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Accidents happen.” His voice was still velvety smooth, with a warm undertone that lingered.
“As for your friend,” he added, “I don’t tolerate this kind of thing again.”
Clarissa exhaled in relief, nodding quickly. “Thank you, Professor—Lawrence. But I insist on paying for the clothes. It’s the least I can do.”
She knew suits like his were bespoke, stitched by hand and imported, and coffee stains like these rarely ca out.
But Lawrence remained as composed and graceful as ever. “It’s really not necessary,” he said, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer than it should. “Get so sleep tonight. You look like you need it.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away—his tall fra disappearing through the bustling cafeteria, leaving behind the subtle scent of cedar and expensive cologne.
Clarissa stood there, still holding the napkins. He really is sothing else...
There had been no anger in him, no arrogance. Just a quiet, unwavering confidence—and an elegance that made her heart flutter.
She made a ntal note to still pay him back sohow. She wasn’t the type to let debts linger.
Clarissa grabbed a fresh cup of coffee, sat down, and ate in silence. The caffeine perked her up a bit, and by the ti afternoon classes were over, she was more or less functioning again.
Once class ended, she practically flew to her car, ready to head ho and collapse for the night.
But just as she started the engine, her phone rang.
“Hello?” she answered, holding the phone between her shoulder and ear.
“Clarissa! The guy who filled in for Old Man Yan today? Not just hot—he’s insanely hot,” ca Daphne’s excited voice.
Clarissa sighed. “Yeah, he’s... alright.”
“Alright?! Are you serious? Girl, I saw the photo you sent—I practically got wet looking at it. He’s got that dangerous, brooding vibe and the hot professor thing going on. It's unfair.”
Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Daph, you have a boyfriend.”
“So? If I don't like him anymore, I’ll dump him,” Daphne said with a shrug in her voice. “Besides, hot professors are worth a little heartbreak. I’d risk academic probation for a night with that man.”
Clarissa let out a short laugh. It was typical Daphne—rich, beautiful, and utterly unfiltered. With her perfect looks and money to burn, she changed boyfriends like seasons, but never got judged for it.
“Clarissa,” Daphne continued, “seriously. Why aren’t *you* seeing anyone? You’re in college now, and you’re way too pretty to be wasting ti single. Let introduce you to soone—”
“I’m not in a rush.” Clarissa yawned as she pulled onto the road. “I’m heading ho now. Need sleep more than a boyfriend.”
“Alright, alright. Thank you again for today, I owe you big-ti!”
Clarissa just smiled and hung up without replying. But just as she turned onto the main road, her phone rang again—this ti, the caller ID made her stomach twist.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ms. Clarissa?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Yes, speaking.”
“I’m calling from the ergency departnt. Your mother was in a car accident. You need to co quickly.”
Clarissa felt her breath catch. “What?”
The blood drained from her face. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and her pulse began to race.
“I’m on my way,” she said sharply and hung up.
She whipped the car around at the next intersection, her heart hamring in her chest. By the ti she reached the hospital, her hands were trembling.
Inside, she found Clentine still in the examination room.
Clarissa sat down in the hallway, glancing up at the closed clinic door every few seconds, her fingers clenching tightly in her lap.
“Clarissa!”
Atticus’s voice rang out the mont he spotted her sitting alone in the sterile white corridor. The bright lights and long, empty hallway made her seem small—fragile, even. His chest tightened at the sight, and in the next breath, he was kneeling in front of her, eyes wide with concern.
“Sis, what happened? Are you hurt? Are you sick?” He’d rushed over the second he heard she was at the hospital.
Clarissa gave a soft shake of her head. “I’m fine. It’s Mom…”
Before she could say more, the clinic door opened with a soft click. A doctor stepped out.
Clarissa stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. “Doctor—how’s my mom? Is she okay?”
The doctor gave a reassuring nod. “She’s alright. Just a few scrapes, nothing serious. I’ve treated her injuries. She’s still shaken up—likely from the trauma. You should stay close and help her rest. Once she gets her dication, she can be discharged.”
Clarissa exhaled deeply, her shoulders finally relaxing. “Thank you… thank you so much.”
Atticus stepped in gently. “I’ll go get the dicine. You should be with Auntie.”
Clarissa nodded, grateful. “Okay. Thank you.”
As Atticus left, she headed straight to the ward. Inside, Clentine looked pale and dazed, her gaze unfocused. Clarissa approached softly, her heart aching at the sight.
“Mom,” she said gently. “Are you alright? When I got the call, I was terrified.”
Clentine blinked slowly, her voice weak. “I just… wanted to pick out your birthday present myself.”
Clarissa gripped her mother’s hand tightly. “You could’ve let co with you. Anything you give , I’ll love it—just because it’s from you.”
Clentine’s lips trembled. “Clarissa…”
Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could say anything more.
Clarissa was startled. “Mom? Are you in pain? Who hit you? Tell —I’ll make sure they’re held accountable.”
But Clentine couldn’t speak. She just cried, her body shaking.
Clarissa wrapped her arms around her gently, holding her mother close and stroking her back. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m here… I’m not going anywhere.”
Just as the doctor had warned, Clentine’s emotional state was fragile—her fear still lingering under her skin.
The door opened quietly, and Atticus stepped in with a small paper bag of dicine.
Clarissa let go and turned toward him. “Thank you.” She took the dicine and carefully helped her mother drink it.
Atticus stood by, his gaze flicking toward Clentine for a long, unreadable mont. Sothing flickered in his expression.
Then, with a calm voice, he turned to Clarissa. “I’m going to grab so food. You should eat too.”
“Sothing light, please,” she said softly, her attention still mostly on her mother.
He nodded and left. Clarissa stayed a little longer, soothing her mother, then made her way to the nurse’s station to ask more about her condition.
“She’ll be okay,” the doctor said kindly. “Just needs so rest. I’ll prescribe a light sedative to help her sleep tonight.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
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