Page 19 of Nocturne

I continue, pacing away from the podium and feeling Mr. Devlin’s gaze. Sometimes, his stare is unsettling, but today it’slike a warm breeze brushing my skin. I shake off the thought and refocus.

Teaching feels liberating—this is where I can embrace my curiosity without judgment. Papa always called me a curious mind. Growing up, I overwhelmed my sister with random trivia until she cried for me to stop. Ivy and Iyra tolerate it, but even they admit I can be too much. After my ex called it annoying, I stopped sharing.

Now, the classroom is my haven for science, and Hope Springs Home, where I volunteer, is where I discuss quantum physics with Cas, a genius kid who shares my fascination with space. It’s a relief to let the knowledge buzzing in my brain flow freely.

I glance at the clock and dive into one last point. “These genetic changes result from external factors, like carcinogens, and internal ones, like replication errors. Benign neoplasms can disrupt tissues, but malignant ones dismantle cellular order, leading to systemic failure.”

Jess raises her hand. “How does clonal evolution contribute to cancer resistance? Do resistant clones emerge early or later?”

“Great question, Jess. Clonal evolution shows how tumours evolve, accumulating mutations. Resistant clones typically appear after therapy begins due to selective pressure, which is why treatments often fail—they adapt.”

I close the presentation. “For your assignment, I want a proposal for a novel intervention targeting these pathways, supported by evidence from at least three peer-reviewed studies. Outline the mechanism and anticipate side effects based on existing treatments.”

I lean back on my desk, wiping sweaty palms down my dress, nerves prickling at what I have to face next.

Some of them groan, some of them look bored, and the least amount of them look excited. I know it is a tough one, but they signed up for it.

“You have until the end of the semester to turn them in. This will carry a significant grade, so I’d invest a considerable amount of attention and care into this.” I caution before they all leave.

Ray leaves the last, handing me some papers I need to sign before she submits them to the accounts department. I think she says something about cancer cell samples being delivered today, but I don’t pay her much attention. I work on not fidgeting in my place after she leaves.

With the classroom void of people, it seems to grow in its size. I’ve never observed how ridiculously large these classrooms are. I agree this was once a castle, but what was ever the requirement of such a gigantic room?

“Mr Devlin?” I call out and be done with it.

There is no answer; not that I expected there to be one. But there is a shift in the shadows that has my heart racing and sweat gathering under my armpits. Please, god, let there not be a sweat stain by the time I’m done with this.

By the time this conversation is done, sweat stains will be the least of your worries!

I suppose so, yes.

I call out again and wait.

I see long legs stretch out from the darkness, and I jump slightly. Perhaps a part of me was hoping to be proven wrong about him being here. I haven’t seen him since that first day. Part of me kept hoping that I would make a fool out of myself by talking to empty air when there wasn’t anyone. But looking at the sturdy legs clad in black trousers and shiny, expensive leather shoes, that part dies a quick death.

I clutch the desk behind me tightly when those legs go to stand. They climb down from the step, bringing the man into focus. A sound gets stuck in my throat whenever I see this man. He seems like a dark, tragic poem coming to life, the kind that breaks your heart and pushes you into the abyss.

A beautifully chaotic disaster.

I have only seen him twice, so it still shocks me to see a man of this stature. So tall, majestically dark, godly and plain powerful.

The muscles ripple under his black shirt that stretches over his body. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, showcasing the art of tattoos that are both beautiful and mysterious. There is something about men with veiny forearms and tattoos that appeal to every girl who has a pulse. It suddenly gets the pulse down south racing, even if the said arms can crush me to a pulp.

Mr Devlin stands on the last step, a single brow raised slightly at me in question while I unabashedly check him out. I don’t need a mirror to know that my cheeks are pink in embarrassment.

I clear my throat, trying to push some strength into it. There is something about those eyes, those hunter-grey eyes that track every movement of mine with dark precision that makes my mind go blank.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my classes?”

There is a moment of tense silence where I start imagining all the ways I would die. Perhaps he would hang me to the ceiling as well. Or he might chuck me to the sharks or find other grotesque ways to end me.

“No.”

I blink once.

Twice.

Thrice and then a frown makes an appearance on my face. I open my mouth once and close it again, not knowing what to say. He essentially shut me up, but I’m not going to back down.

---