The sharp click of a remote against the desk cut through the fading drone of the professor's final slide.
"We'll stop here," he said, snapping his laptop shut. "Check your partner list before midnight. And don't email me if you don't like who you got."
Chairs shifted. Laptops closed. Bags unzipped.
Noel let out a breath he'd been unknowingly holding, like the lecture had wrapped around his ribs and only just let go.
He capped his pen, slipped it beside his notes, and moved with practiced ease—papers stacked, phone retrieved, notebook tucked away. His body knew the rhythm, even if his mind was still wandering.
Outside, the sunlight had softened into gold, slanting through the tall windows of the lecture hall, casting long rectangles across the floor.
Noel blinked once, then twice.
Done. Finally.
His phone remained quiet. No messages. No missed calls.
He didn't expect one. And yet—he still looked.
Just in case.
