While Stanislava tried to coax something meaningful out of Martynenko about the topic, Karpenko couldn’t take his eyes off her. Asya felt his gaze on her and couldn’t relax. At least she hadn’t forgotten her subject matter.
“You’ll have to retake it,” she said, shaking her head as the student fell silent once again, at a loss for words. Poor Martynenko hung his head, grabbed his grade book, said goodbye, and shuffled out of the room.
“Are you ready, Andriy?” Asya asked, unable to hold back any longer. Under that stormy gaze, she was starting to feel uneasy.
“Still preparing,” the student replied with complete seriousness, continuing to bore into her with his stare. Stifled giggles rippled through the lecture hall.
“Is he undressing me with his eyes?” Asya wondered, shamelessly studying the guy in return. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
After grading the last three students, excluding Karpenko, Asya tugged her mask down to her chin again and gave Andriy a friendly smile. They were now alone in the lecture hall. She gestured toward a chair. The guy sat down across from her, still looking at her as if he could see straight into her soul.
Her heart beat louder, and she felt uncomfortably warm, despite having been chilly just moments before. She studied the features of Andriy’s face as if they held some profound importance to her. Later, she’d realize they did, but right now, her own reaction felt strange.
Andriy had striking dark gray eyes, thin straight eyebrows, and full, fresh lips. “Those lips have probably kissed plenty of girls,” she thought, the realization snapping her back to reality.
“I’m listening,” she said, tilting her head and offering a polite smile. She hoped the calm demeanor she was trying so hard to project seemed convincing. Little did she know that soon enough, this kind of composure would become second nature to her. It would become her life.
“Let’s be real here…” Karpenko began. “You know I don’t know anything…”
“Let’s stick to formal address, please,” she corrected him politely. “If you haven’t studied, then you’ll retake the exam on January fifth. Let’s not waste our time!”
Our time! Asya surprised herself with that slip. Andriy’s brows furrowed. Clearly, he wasn’t happy with how this was playing out. He probably wanted to offer a bribe or intimidate her with his connections. But the young instructor had never accepted bribes—well, except for that one small box of chocolate-covered prunes a senior student had given her. Asya adored those treats and couldn’t resist. Besides, the student hadn’t asked for much, just a few extra points to scrape by with a passing grade. She’d felt ashamed about that incident and had no intention of repeating it. She was committed to fairness and always treated everyone equally.
“Maybe we can work something out, because…”
“No!” she cut him off. She wasn’t about to take any bribes. Not even chocolate-covered prunes could save Karpenko—only studied material would do. “Come back for the retake. And since you’re such a chronic skipper, I’ll be adding some extra questions for you.”
Gritting his teeth, Andriy stood up from the chair and stormed out of the room, leaving behind the pleasant scent of expensive cologne that Asya couldn’t shake from her mind for a long time.
She gathered her things and headed to the department office. She needed to wrap up a few tasks before she could fly home to her family like a free bird.
In the office she shared with three colleagues, only Sypchenko remained—a short man with long gray whiskers and a kind smile. Asya had loved listening to his chatter since her student days, when Yevhen Serafymovych, as his full name went, had been her professor.
“Hey, Stasya!” His whiskers twitched as a smile spread across Sypchenko’s face. “How’d the exam go? I’ll put the kettle on. Want some tea? Raspberry, just how you like it.”
“Oh, no, Yevhen Serafymovych, you sit tight, I’ll take care of it! You’ve just been sick!”
Sypchenko had battled COVID at the same time as Asya, and she knew the aftereffects could linger. So she set the kettle to boil and started recounting the exam, though she didn’t mention a word about Karpenko or his failed attempt at a bribe. She didn’t want to spoil the pre-New Year mood for herself or Sypchenko. The electric kettle bubbled to a boil, and Asya got up to brew the tea—raspberry in a bag for herself, and loose-leaf black for Yevhen Serafymovych. Both preferred their drinks without sugar.
Just as Asya set a cup in front of her colleague, voices echoed from behind the door.
“…nah, don’t chicken out, the She-Devil was in a good mood today, she’ll sign off on everything for you…”
The colleagues exchanged a glance, and Asya noticed a restrained smile on Sypchenko’s face.
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She will, I’m telling you! Go in! We’re running out of time!”
There was a knock at the door, and then it cracked open, revealing a student’s head peeking through.
“Is Kateryna Eduardivna here?” the boy asked pitifully, his long bangs hanging over wide, nervous eyes as he darted glances between Asya and Sypchenko.
It was both funny and sad. Their office wasn’t so big that you could miss a tall, heavyset woman with long dark hair and angry eyes lined in black. Unless, of course, she was hiding under a desk. Even then, she’d probably still be visible.
“Nope,” Asya and Sypchenko said in unison, grinning at their synchronicity.
“She stepped out,” Yevhen Serafymovych added.
“O-okay,” the student stammered, quickly shutting the door behind him.
“She’s not there!” he barked to his friend outside.
“Yeah, I heard…” the other replied.
It went quiet outside the door. The colleagues sipped two cups of tea each, chatted about this and that, and then got back to their work. Later, the infamous Kateryna Eduardivna herself arrived—the one the students feared, even hated. Asya wasn’t too fond of her either, but she had to keep things civil with her colleague.
“These darn kids,” Kateryna grumbled bitterly. “Bless their hearts, they’ve worn me out! I’ve got no holiday spirit left…”
“There’s still four days until New Year’s. It’ll come,” Yevhen Serafymovych assured the She-Devil.
“And where’s it supposed to come from?” the woman retorted, pulling a fragrant pastry in a paper wrapper from her bag and starting to eat. Asya couldn’t help but think she was stress-eating. She even felt a pang of sympathy for Kateryna, who had neither a partner nor a family. Asya hadn’t found her other half yet either, but at least she had a big family she adored with all her heart.
The door opened again, and Petro Vasylovych Zhayvoronok, the third professor who shared the office with Asya, walked in. The first thing he did was give her a hungry look, forcing her to avert her eyes. Zhayvoronok had been pursuing her for a while now, but she wasn’t interested. Too skinny, too short, too boring, too little hair on his head, and a whole list of other “toos.” In short, not her type.
“Nechyporenko’s in a bad mood today,” Zhayvoronok complained about the dean. “Some student demanded an automatic pass on an exam just because he’s got an influential dad. Anatoliy Ivanovych refused, and the kid started threatening him…”
Asya tuned out the rest, her thoughts drifting back to Karpenko and his failed attempt to pass the exam earlier. A sour feeling settled in her chest. What did that spoiled rich kid think he was doing? She’d already cut him some slack by overlooking his absences.
Sighing heavily, she decided to bring it up later when Karpenko came for the retake. Stanislava wasn’t one to stay silent when something bothered or upset her.
After the workday ended, the instructor stepped out of the university and paused to enjoy the fresh air. Winter this year had been unusually warm, with not even a hint of snow. Still, the holiday spirit hadn’t left Asya since December nineteenth, when she’d received a gift in the mail from her cousin Taras. She had a lot of cousins, and that always filled her with immense joy.
After walking a few steps, she caught a familiar voice. Near a black tinted sedan in the parking lot, Karpenko stood talking on the phone.
“I’ll pass the exam, Mom, don’t freak out, please!”
The conversation was heated. Andriy paced back and forth nervously, running a hand through his thick golden-blond hair. For a moment, Asya found herself captivated by the scene, thinking he could look so much more serious if he wanted to. A long time ago, she’d read that rich kids, when faced with the harsh realities of life, could grow up, straighten out, and live a normal life without staying stuck in perpetual childhood. Or they could spiral down to rock bottom…
Their eyes met, and she smiled.
“Happy holidays!” she called out to the student before heading toward the bus stop.