Rohan's POV
I sat in the back row of the lecture hall, my eyes glazing over Professor Amrita's words as she paced in front of the class. She was in her mid-thirties, sharp-featured with those thin-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose, her dark long hair tied in a neat bun that made her look both authoritative and unintentionally sexy. Her blouse hugged her curves just enough to distract me, and her pencil skirt outlined her hips in a way that sent my mind straight to the gutter. She was explaining quantum mechanics or some shit—honestly, who cared? All I could picture was bending her over the desk and sliding into her from behind.
She called on me suddenly.
I have started something I am not even sure anyone would read. Now here we are. Me—still writing. You—still here. I’m not backed by fame or algorithms, just pure passion… and you. So if you’re reading this, thank you. Your support doesn’t just help—it builds this journey. And every share, every comment, every cheer? It’s another “Keep going.” And I will. For you to read. Comment your darkest desires to read in the story.
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