Professor Khan ✔️(completed)

3. b e h r o o p - Disguise

She stood there humiliated. Her face burning like a hot coal. For a second nothing there appeared to be worth it as she felt the pain of the rubber band on her wrist. She knew her wrist was sore and raw. The razed skin under the rubber band and bracelets felt raw and sore with the snapping, but this torment felt medicinal to her humiliation. Disappointment, not so much.

She'd take physical pain over emotional despair any day. The physical injury had ways to be treated and a hope to be healed. On the other hand, emotional sufferings left her hollow. She never did learn how to heal herself.

She focused on where he was. He was engrossed in reading her portfolio, scrutinizing it as if he could find some loophole to ridicule her more. Good luck, Lucifer. She smirked. She wasn't stable emotionally, but academically she was brilliant.

Once he was done reading he put her portfolio down. She stared at his face to figure out something, anything, but his placid expressions gave nothing away. Calm as a cucumber. Nothing on his perfectly structured face displayed that she just insulted him a few minutes ago.

He glanced at her again and she felt uneasy under his scrutiny. There was just something about those shadowy dark eyes. She wanted to take a minute and study them. How are they so dark? In the dim light of the room, there wasn't even a speck of another color in his eyes. Just the contrast of black against white. The pair of midnight murkiness made her feel exasperated. As of he could see through the facade, that she built so carefully through years, in mere seconds.

"What makes you qualified to be here?" His husky voice echoed through the office quietly.

"Nothing." She announced as her lips turned upward into a smile. Hell yeah!  an easy way out for me. "You should not make your assistant. I don't even want to be. You can tell Davis. I'm not the right person for this." She pleaded. She knew she was more than qualified. She may not be good at writing, but she was efficient, honest, and dignified who got the job done.

A certain type of vexation flashed across his face for a second and then he was back to his cold composure. It could have been equivalent to her illusion if she hadn't been paying attention.

"I want you here at 5 pm on the dot. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."

"WHAT!" Her jaw dropped in shock. He leaned back in that chair like he owned the damn university. "What do you mean?"

"5 pm. Monday. Wednesday. Friday." As if he was talking to a child.

"What the hell? I thought you were going to disqualify me and kick me out of here?"

"Even failure too shall be earned, Miss Noor." He voiced it as if he had tasted the wrath that failure brings on her. Fuck no. She wasn't ever putting herself through that again.

He picked up a pile from the floor and put it on his desk. She sneered at him. Only if she could stab him with the gorgeous pricey fountain pen that was on his desk.

"But why three days?" She groaned. "I have a life, you know, outside of this campus." That is such a lie. All she did was sleep and ready sappy romantic books. She did not have a life. "I don't hibernate in a Hogwart looking cave." She looked around the office with disdain and her eyes stilled on him. Oops. He raised his eyebrows at her in a challenge. Why are his eyebrows so perfect?

"Have you seen your writing?" His tone was smooth and calm, but she could almost hear the mocking.

"Whatever." She was about to use the colorful F words on him, but she settled for Whatever.

It was enough toll on her emotions for the day, but apparently, he wasn't done. As she turned around to leave the office, his subdued yet strong voice stopped her. He wasn't done with her. It was her official day to start working as he handed her a dozen or so papers to read and correct to the best of her ability as a practice.

so dropping out of college and starting my youtube channel.

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He stared at the creature sitting across his office. He was trying to figure out why did he still choose to mentor her with the kind of assumptions she had about him. And the way she spelled them loud and clear. He'd never been the one to be rattled by the judgy eyes around him, but hers for some reason gave place to the growing disappointment in him. He hardly had any idea why. Maybe because he didn't expect it from her. She herself was divergent in the nation they resided in. They both were variant in their own way in the narrowminded society. For her, it was merely the cloth she chose to tie on her head, her hijab, which made people at times alienate her or girl like her. For him, it was too many things to count, from his decorated body to his religion.

But at the same time how could he forget it was his very own people who he shared his culture and the color of his skin with, made him into a monster. A monster that still lurked at the bay at times. Flesh and blood of his own people that pushed him over the edge.

How could he have mistaken her to be someone different? They were all one and same. Granted he hadn't known her more than mere seconds and she was of no importance to him. He just felt drawn to her because she carried the symbol of the religion that brought peace to him. Of the religion that saved him. Of the religion that was a glimmer of light through the darkness of his own blood.  He felt drawn to her because of that and well until she opened her mouth. She was one and same as the others he encountered over the years. The hypocrites, who wore symbols of religion, but could care less about the teachings.

You are judging her as well.

The moral voice inside his rusted heart echoed. He never made a mistake of listening to his heart again.

She was just as rotten as he was, except she hid it well behind the facade she created while his sins were visible to the public as a museum. Contrarily, hers were hidden in her words and the numerous bracelets she wore.

His poison was ink and hers seemed to be the pain.

He was well versed in recognizing pain. He had inflicted it on and he had experienced it. He paused his thoughts for a second as he focused on her across his safe space. She was lost in the old manuscripts he handed her. For all the fight she put up to escape this opportunity, she was working hard and efficiently.

He had known it from her portfolio that she was the classic case of an overachiever sheltered princess. The one that climbed the ladder of success by stepping on others. The types that he despised beyond words. She seemed to be the poster child for the perfection in that sense.

but the question remained echoing through his mind. What caused her to inflict pain on herself?

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P.S. It's not edited so there might be some mistakes. Forgive me for those.