The boys' locker room It was the one place in the school where Kai felt safe from her.

Or so he thought.

It was 4:15 PM. Practice was over. The rest of the team had already cleared out, racing to catch the buses. Kai had stayed behind, ostensibly to look for a lost knee guard, but in reality, he just needed five minutes of silence to stop his hands from shaking.

He sat on the wooden bench, shirtless, his gym bag open at his feet. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering slightly.

He looked down at his left wrist. The red ring was darker now, an angry purple bruise blooming beneath the skin. He traced it with his thumb, wincing slightly. Irusha had seen it. She knew.

I have to hide this better, he thought, reaching into his locker for his uniform shirt. If Coach sees this, he'll think I'm self-harming. Or worse.

Click. Clack.

The sound was sharp, rhythmic, and utterly wrong.

Sneakers squeaked. Cleats crunched. They didn't click.

Kai froze, his shirt half-unfolded in his hands. He turned his head slowly toward the entrance.

Standing in the doorway of the boys' locker room, looking entirely out of place amidst the grime and the testosterone, was Ms. Anastasia.

She was wearing a sharp grey pencil skirt and a white silk blouse, her heels looking like weapons on the dirty tiled floor. She held a clipboard in one hand, but her eyes weren't inspecting the facilities. They were locked on Kai's bare chest.

Kai scrambled up, clutching his shirt to his chest like a shield.

"Ma'am?!" his voice squeaked, echoing off the metal lockers. "You... you can't be here! This is the boys' locker room!"

Anastasia didn't flinch. She didn't apologize. She simply stepped inside, letting the heavy door swing shut behind her with a definitive thud.

"I am a senior faculty member, Kai," she said calmly, her voice echoing in the tiled space. "I have the authority to inspect any part of the school grounds for... contraband."

She took a step forward. Click.

"Ma'am, please," Kai pleaded, looking frantically at the door. "If someone walks in... if the Coach comes back..."

"Then they will see a teacher disciplining a student," she countered smoothly. She walked right up to him, invading his space until he backed up against the cold metal of his locker.

The smell of vanilla and expensive perfume instantly overpowered the smell of sweat. It was dizzying.

"Put the shirt down," she commanded softly.

Kai hesitated. "Ma'am..."

"Down."

Kai slowly lowered the shirt. He was exposed. He was lean but fit, his chest rising and falling rapidly with panic. Anastasia's eyes traveled over his torso, lingering on his muscles, treating him like a specimen she had dissected.

Then, her gaze snapped to his left hand.

"Give me your hand," she whispered.

Kai swallowed hard, extending his left arm.

She took it. Her hands were cool against his feverish skin. She turned his wrist over, inspecting the angry purple ring that circled the bone.

Kai expected her to be worried. Maybe even apologetic.

Instead, a slow, dark smile spread across her red lips. She ran her thumb over the bruise, pressing down just hard enough to make it sting.

"Beautiful," she murmured.

Kai's breath hitched. "It... it hurts."

"It is supposed to," she replied, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "It is a reminder, Kai. Every time you look at this... every time it throbs... you think of me. Don't you?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She knew.

She lifted his wrist higher, bringing it to her face. Kai watched in paralyzed fascination as she parted her lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss directly onto the bruise.

Her lips were warm against the damaged skin. It was a gesture of twisted tenderness—a claim of ownership.

"Mine," she whispered against his skin.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps thundered in the hallway outside.

"Yeah, I think I left my whistle in there," a deep voice boomed.

Coach.

Kai's eyes went wide. "Ma'am!" he hissed, panic exploding in his chest. "Coach is coming! You have to hide!"

Anastasia didn't hide. She didn't even look rushed. She simply dropped his hand and took a half-step back, smoothing her skirt.

The door swung open.

"Kai? You still in here, son?" Coach Singh walked in, a burly man in a tracksuit. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Ms. Anastasia?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Kai felt like he was going to vomit. He was shirtless, sweating, and standing inches away from the Biology teacher.

Anastasia turned around slowly, her face a mask of professional boredom.

"Mr. Singh," she nodded politely. "I was just conducting a routine hygiene check of the facilities. I found this student... lingering."

She turned back to Kai, her eyes cold and distant, as if she hadn't just kissed his wrist ten seconds ago.

"Put your shirt on, Kai," she ordered sharply. "And leave. The school is not a hotel."

She looked back at the Coach. "The ventilation in here is inadequate. I will be filing a report."

With that, she clicked past the stunned Coach and walked out the door, her heels echoing down the hallway.

Coach Singh stared after her, then looked at Kai.

"Scary woman," the Coach muttered, shaking his head. "What did you do to piss her off?"

Kai pulled his shirt on, his hands shaking so badly he couldn't button it. He looked at his wrist, where the ghost of her kiss still burned.

"I... I don't know, Coach," Kai whispered. "I really don't know."