I'm gonna be a teacher

I stayed a while longer at the orphanage.

Sister Isha insisted I eat something before leaving—nothing heavy, just warm bread and tea in a chipped yellow cup. A few kids passed by the garden while I sat there. Some waved. One girl gave me a flower she said she picked “just because it matched my eyes.” I tucked it behind my ear and let it stay there, no matter how ridiculous I felt.

For a second, I imagined what it would’ve been like if I had grown up here. If I had really been this version of me all along.

Eventually, I said goodbye to Sister Isha. She hugged me tight and told me I was welcome anytime, even if it was just to sit in silence. That felt like the kind of invitation I didn’t know I needed.

The cab ride back was quiet again. This time, I didn’t mind the silence.

By the time I got to the mansion, the sky was leaning into dusk, streaked with pale orange and violet. I expected the usual—cold marble floors, empty rooms echoing with wealth and silence, the grand entryway lit only by the fading light through the arched windows.

But the second I stepped inside, I froze.

A maid was there to greet me, as I anticipated. She picked up my shoes the moment I took them off, but that wasn't what made me freeze.

Something smelled good—warm, spiced, and very much human.

I turned to the maid. "Is Eniz here?" Maybe he came to have dinner with me again.

The maid shook her head. "No, sir. Sir Callahan is back. He was waiting for you so that dinner could get started."

I blinked in confusion and disbelief. "What?" But she was already walking away.

I walked slowly through the corridors, past high ceilings and oil paintings I still hadn’t really looked at, half-expecting this to be some elaborate trick of memory.

And there he was.

Callahan.

Sitting at the dining table.

Home early. Still in his shirt from work, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. He looked up when he saw me, no trace of surprise in his eyes. Just… calm. Like this wasn’t completely out of character. Like this was normal—us having dinner together.

The long dining table—the one that always looked like it belonged in a museum—was set. Two plates. Two glasses. There was no maid on standby like there always was. It was just Callahan and me.

"Hey," Callahan said simply, gesturing to the chair across from him. "You’re just in time."

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Callahan gave me an odd look.

I opened my mouth, closed it, then tried again. "You’re home."

He nodded, almost amused. I stared at him in disbelief. He was actually amused. Not cold, not indifferent. Amused.

"That’s usually what people do after work. Come home."

"Yeah, but," I felt floored, "you’re… here."

"And you’re surprised?" He looked like he was enjoying this way too much. And isn’t it weird—this is the longest we’ve ever spoken to each other. It felt nice. Not that I was going to admit it.

"I mean—yeah?" I didn’t sit down yet. My voice sounded lighter than I meant it to. "You haven’t been home this early since…"

Callahan shrugged nonchalantly. "Wanted to." Then he quirked a brow. "Can’t I?"

That was it. No explanation, no elaborate story. Just a short shift. As if this—this—was our normal. As if everything between us wasn’t tentative and short.

"Of course you can come home. You live here."

He stared at me for a long while, then nodded.

"Sit," he said, lifting a spoon like it was no big deal. "You need to eat."

I stared at him.

He quirked a brow. “What?”

I let out a breath of something close to a laugh. My hands were folded into my sweater. "Right. Sorry. It’s just—" I swallowed. "We don’t do this, Callahan."

He stared at me. "I know. I figured we should eat together for once," he said, voice low. "Talk."

That made my stomach twist a little. Talk could mean anything.

But I sat down anyway.

The food smelled amazing. Some kind of spicy pasta and grilled chicken. Comfort food. Something about it made my chest tighten—not from pain, just… the unfamiliar feeling of being thought of.

I swallowed, my voice thick. "You said you didn’t care."

He met my eyes. His eyes looked softer than this morning—less cold.

"You said you didn’t care," I repeated.

He stayed quiet for a while, then looked away.

"You were out," Callahan said, changing the topic. I let him.

I nodded. "Yeah."

He cut a piece of chicken. "Am I allowed to know where?"

I nodded, picking up the fork and spoon on the sides of the plate. "The orphanage."

He blinked in surprise. "The orphanage?"

I nodded.

Callahan paused, the chicken halfway to his mouth. "It's been a while. How was it?" Then he ate the chicken.

I hesitated. "Familiar. Nice. I met Sister Isha, and the kids are really sweet."

"I noticed," he said, gesturing toward the general direction of where the flower was still tucked behind my ear.

I blushed but didn’t move to take it off.

We ate in silence for a while. Not awkward—not exactly—but heavy. Like there were words hanging in the air we weren’t brave enough to reach for yet.

But something pressed on my chest, and for once, I just had to ask.

"Callahan?"

"Hmm." He paused eating and looked at me, but I didn’t look at him.

"Why do you hate me?" I saw the way his eyes widened from the side of my vision.

"I don’t hate you, Royal," he said softly. "I don’t."

I turned to look at him. Really looked at him. "Did you know I wanted to be a teacher?"

The change of topic startled him, but he nodded. "Yeah. You used to talk about it all the time."

My throat tightened. "Did I?"

He met my eyes. "It mattered to you. Still does?"

I looked down at my plate. "Yeah. I think it does."

He continued eating, but I didn’t.

"I’m going to be a teacher," I said, raising my head to look at Callahan. "I’m going to become a teacher."

He nodded again, like that settled something. Then he went back to eating.

We didn’t say much more after that. But it wasn’t nothing. It was the first time it didn’t feel like we were strangers eating in a cold mansion.

And somehow, that was enough.