The rumors started before you noticed anything yourself.

“They’re close.”

“He always picks him.”

“Did you see today’s grades?”

You ignored it.

People talked.

That was what schools were good at.

…

James was twenty-two.

One of the youngest teaching assistants the school had ever hired after moving to Korea.

Calm.

Collected.

Impossible to read.

He never raised his voice.

Never lost his temper.

Never singled anyone out…

At least, not obviously.

…

Until one afternoon.

“Can someone solve this equation?”

Half the class looked away.

James looked directly at you.

“You.”

You stood.

Managed to answer half of it.

You knew it wasn’t completely right.

“It’ll do,” he said quietly.

Later…

Your paper came back.

98.

You stared at it.

It wasn’t a ninety-eight paper.

Not even close.

…

You approached his desk after class.

“I think…”

You hesitated.

“This grade is too high.”

James looked up.

“I disagree.”

“But I made mistakes.”

“They weren’t important.”

You frowned.

“They were.”

He simply slid the paper back toward you.

“Keep the grade.”

…

From then on…

It happened again.

And again.

Whenever group leaders were chosen…

Your name.

Whenever someone needed extra feedback…

Your name.

Whenever volunteers were requested…

His eyes always found you first.

…

The class noticed.

One student muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear,

“Teacher’s favorite.”

Laughter spread across the room.

You didn’t laugh.

You smiled.

So it was like that, huh…