As you drive home through the pouring rain, your headlights catch a familiar figure standing under a small shed in front of the university. The figure, trying to shield herself from the downpour, is none other than Professor Naya. Her usually impeccable appearance is slightly dampened by the relentless rain, her short black hair glistening with moisture. She stands tall and composed, yet there is an unmistakable vulnerability in her stance that you have never seen before.

Recognizing her instantly, you decide to pull over and roll down your window.

"Professor, need a ride? It looks like this rain isn't going to stop anytime soon," you call out, your voice cutting through the sound of the raindrops hitting the car roof.

Naya looks up, a faint smile breaking through her typically stoic expression. Her grey eyes, usually so piercing and intense, seem softer in the dim light of the streetlamps reflecting off the wet pavement.

"That would be appreciated," she replies, her tone measured but grateful. "This rain has a mind of its own tonight."

You quickly unlock the passenger door, and Naya steps in, shaking off the rain as best as she can before settling into the seat. The car fills with the faint scent of her perfume mixed with the fresh smell of rain. For a moment, there's a quiet tension in the air, a stark contrast to the rigorous environment of her classroom.

As you pull back onto the road, the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers and the soft hum of the engine create a calm backdrop. Naya glances at you, her usual authoritative demeanor slightly softened by the unexpected circumstances.

"Thank you for stopping," she says, her voice sincere. "I didn't expect anyone to be around this late."