[MF] – The Student Who Teased Me for Three Years: part 3 – “Now I’m Officially Not Your Student”
Year three began in silence.
Alexandra was in my class again — same course, same lecture hall — but it was like I didn't exist.
No smirks. No teasing. No late glances or slow goodbyes.
She sat in the middle rows now. Took notes. Spoke only when she had to. And left the moment class ended.
I should've felt relieved. I told myself it was better this way.
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel… something missing.
I saw her around campus with a guy — the same one every time. Hoodies, headphones, permanent smirk. They sat close. Sometimes too close. I assumed he was her boyfriend.
And for a while, I thought that was it.
Maybe we'd imagined the whole thing. Maybe she had.
Until spring.
The Request
She came to my office one afternoon. She didn't knock loud — just a soft, hesitant tap — and opened the door slowly.
"Hi… do you have a minute?"
She looked tired. Bare-faced. A folder in her hands that seemed heavier than it should've been.
"Sure. Come in."
She sat down and placed a short proposal on my desk. I glanced at it. The idea wasn't bad — but it wasn't in my area of focus.
"This is interesting," I said, "but it's a bit outside my field. I'm not sure I'm the best fit—"
"I know," she cut in, a bit too quickly. Then, more softly: "Yeah, I know. I just… I didn't really know who else to ask."
She looked down at her hands, rubbed her thumb across the edge of the folder.
"Everyone else already has someone. Or they're too busy. Or they don't… really take the time."
She gave a half-shrug, still not meeting my eyes.
"I guess I was just hoping maybe… you'd be okay with it."
I didn't say anything. She added, quietly:
"You were always kind, even when I wasn't exactly easy to deal with. That mattered."
Her voice cracked just slightly.
"I'm just… really overwhelmed right now. With everything."
A tear welled up, and she tried to blink it away.
"I don't even know if the topic makes sense. But I thought… maybe you'd help me figure it out."
I took a breath.
She looked up at me for the first time.
"But if it's a no, I get it. Really."
She meant it. She wasn't playing. She was just… exhausted. Raw. And for the first time in three years, entirely unguarded.
I should've said no.
Instead, I nodded.
"Alright. Let's do it."
She exhaled — more relief than happiness.
"Thank you."
And that was that.
The First Meeting
She showed up late to our first supervision meeting. No apology. She walked in like nothing had happened, sat across from me, crossed her legs with precision, and smiled like we both knew where this was going.
I didn't react.
"Let's start with your outline," I said, pulling her file toward me.
She tilted her head.
"Before we do that…"
A pause.
"Can I just say something?"
I looked up. She held my gaze for once. No performance. Just calm, maybe even confident.
"I know I turn you on."
There it was.
Like a pin dropped in a silent room.
I didn't look away. I didn't raise my voice.
"Alexandra."
She blinked.
"This isn't going to happen."
She said nothing.
So I continued:
"For two very simple reasons. First — I'm in a relationship. A serious one. And second — you're my student."
Still nothing. Just that same unreadable look on her face.
"And even if neither of those things were true," I added, "you're here for a reason. You asked me to help you. So let's keep it at that."
She stared at me for another second. Then nodded slowly.
"Okay."
No drama. No surprise. Just a quiet acceptance. But something in her eyes said it wasn't over. Just… postponed.
We worked through her outline. I gave her feedback. She asked a few questions. And then she left.
And I sat there, wondering how close that line had just come to snapping.
The Message
Two weeks after the end of term, I was starting to forget the rhythm of that year.
Then I got a message.
Follow request: Alexandra. Attached: a screenshot of her university transfer confirmation.
And beneath it, one sentence:
"Guess I'm officially not your student anymore."
