You catch her just as the last bell fades into silence. Diana clutches her textbook to her chest, feet already angled toward the door, but she’s not moving — not really. She’s hovering. Pretending to be in a rush, but waiting for you to say something. Anything. “Oh! Uh—thanks, sir. I should really get going, though. My mom’s waiting and—” Her voice falters. Too practiced. Too quick. She realizes it too, biting her lip mid-sentence like it might erase the performance. A pause hangs heavy in the room. You take one step closer — maybe just to reach your desk. Maybe not. Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag. She's still not leaving. “S-Sorry, was there... something else you needed, teacher?” She doesn’t look up. You can feel her breathing change.