𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

27 'TWENTY - SEVEN '

One week later, both Paul and Jemima realized they were mistaken. They were wrong about Jemima not being in trouble. Professor Farida taught them two different courses, both of which made Jemima's life a living hell. Everyone had one question on their minds: In what way had Jemimah offended Professor Farida?

Even within the department, she was quiet and reserved; she was never the center of attention. She seldom spoke in the group. Someone like that could never have irritated Professor Farida; their senior counterparts had told them that Professor Farida was very cool and that it was difficult to get on her bad side, and they had confirmed that in two classes, but after that it was an onslaught of attacks on Jemima for no apparent reason.

Jemima pursed her lips as Professor Farida walked out of the class in long, elegant strides. She knew better than to follow her. Every single one of her attempts to do so previously had proven futile. The latter wouldn't see her, so there was no way she could even find out why the other woman was being so bitchy to her.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked with a small frown on his face. Jemima turned to him with a blank face.

"Do I look okay to you?" she asked, folding her arms and ignoring the curious and questioning looks from the other students. She would be surprised if they did not look at her that way; if she were someone else, she would definitely look at herself that way.

"I just want to know what I did to her other than talk to her with a piece of chocolate in my mouth," Jemima muttered quietly, rubbing her brows.

To say Professor Farida's onslaught of questions and attacks on her didn't affect her would be an understatement. She initially thought the latter was genuinely asking her questions, but it did not take long for her to realize that the latter was deliberately targeting her, which made no sense to her. She had done nothing at all.

"Are you sure you have never met her in town or something before?" Paul asked as they walked to the hostel.

"You have asked that a thousand times and Paul, I still have the same answer for you, I haven't," Jemima said, rolling her eyes. "I had no idea who she was until she started teaching us, okay?"

"Let us hope she gets over her bias and marks your test script correctly." Paul said, and Jemima rolled her eyes once more. "She better do," she said.

And yet again, Jemima and Paul were proven wrong. Jemima gazed at her test script, which had a big zero and a line comment written on top.

You need to read the questions properly before answering them.

A small chuckle escaped her lips as she walked out of the lecture theater with everyone staring at the back of her head.

"Jemimah!" Paul yelled after her, but she was unconcerned. Jemima's heart burned fiercely in her chest. She did not care if Professor Farida bitched at her and singled her out in class; she had put up with enough of her ridiculous behavior. When she was only in her first year, she was even forced to answer postgraduate questions. But her tests? That was a no-go area.

Even if Jemima wrote an impromptu test, there was no way she would get a zero, but she had given her a zero on a test she had over-prepared for. Jemima was sure that Professor Farida hadn't even read her answers at all.

How could someone be so spiteful and bitchy at the same time?

Jemima pushed open her office door and entered. "I want to see Professor Farida," she said to the secretary, who looked at her in surprise. The girl in front of her looked familiar, but she was different; her eyes were red, and anger was written boldly on her face.

"Professor Farida is busy, please return later," the secretary responded, looking through her files and pulling out the visitor slip before placing it in front of Jemima. "You can fill out the form and I will pass it across to her," the secretary added, and Jemima burst out laughing.