LESSON IN CONTROL

Part 1

"Okay, we're early," Sheena said, glancing at her phone. "We love punctuality and mild anxiety."

"Let's walk slowly," suggested Maloi, clutching her coffee like a lifeline. "I need time to emotionally prepare for whatever prof is waiting to ruin our semester."

They made their way to the building, the morning sun casting long shadows along the pathway. The campus was starting to buzz - upperclassmen reuniting, freshmen looking lost, professors walking with purpose.

When they reached their designated classroom, the door was still open, and only a handful of students had arrived. They took the opportunity to slide into the middle row, carefully selecting seats that offered the perfect balance: close enough to see the board clearly, but far enough to avoid direct eye contact with any potential terror prof.

"Strategic seating achieved," Stacey whispered, setting her tote bag down.

"Middle row supremacy," Maloi added. "Too far to be called first, too close to be accused of hiding."

They exchanged nervous glances, settling into their seats, opening notebooks, arranging pens - the usual rituals of a new beginning.

No one said it out loud, but they were all thinking the same thing:

Please let this semester be kind.

And then... footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, echoing just outside the door.

The room went still.

"She's here," Sheena mouthed, wide-eyed.

Jhoana looked up.

"Good morning. I'm Prof. Aiah Navarro. You can call me Ma'am Aiah or Prof. Navarro - but I'd prefer you not to call me at all unless it's about deadlines."

That was the first thing Jhoana heard from her - a voice as clear and precise as the echo of heels on tile. Calm, confident, with just a flicker of something colder beneath the tone.

And that was the first time Jhoana saw her.

Prof. Aiah stood in front of the class like she owned the space - not in arrogance, but in quiet authority. Matangkad, poised, and elegant in black slacks and a sharply pressed white polo, she moved with surgical precision. Every gesture - from the subtle flick of her pen to the way she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear - was intentional. Controlled.

Her face remained neutral, but her eyes told a different story. Sharp. Calculating. Watchful. They scanned the room like searchlights - not looking at the students, but through them.

Twitter | @SheenaTweets
📅 July 10, 8:05PM
First day of class and I already have an emotional support group for Prof. Aiah Navarro. 😩💼 #ColdBeauty #ProfCrush

@StaceOnTop:
can confirm. may killer stare tas killer legs pa 😭

@maloiheartsyou:
10/10 would die for her pero takot akong ma-late 😭 #respetuhin #pls

The silence in the room wasn't just out of respect. It was tension. Charged. Like everyone had collectively forgotten how to breathe.

Then, Aiah clicked her pen once.

"I won't waste time. This is CE 521 - Structural Analysis and Application. If you're not supposed to be here, now is your chance to escape." Her tone was dry, bordering on amused.

No one moved.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Good. Let's start with something simple. Introduce yourselves - name, focus, and one random thing that kept you sane last semester. Keep it short."