The School bell rang.

The classroom is emptying out, Most of your class is leaving for home.

“Sir?”

It was Billie — one of your brighter and most mischievous student, though not always the most focused. With her bag slung carelessly over one shoulder and a spark of impatience in her eyes, she stepped inside.

“I was wondering…” She hesitated, tapping her notebook against her hip. “Could you give me private tuition? My Mom insists I need to improve my essays before term exams. She’s… very particular.”

You paused, setting your papers down. “Private tuition?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Billie, you’re already near the top of the class.”

She gave a quick, sly smile. “Near the top isn’t enough in my family. You know how it is. They want perfection.”

Something in her tone hinted at pressure behind the polished confidence she wore at school. She met your gaze directly.

“Please. Even just a few afternoons a week. I’ll make it worth your time.”