"What are you doing here, Yuli?" I asked, my voice low but laced with curiosity.
She turned slowly, her smile more confident than I'd ever seen. It wasn't the stuttering, timid expression I had grown used to in the assistant professor who had spent countless hours organizing materials for my classes. This smile was too sure, too bold for the woman who could barely string two words together without her hands shaking.
Yuli, or whoever was standing in front of me now, tilted her head slightly. Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable, something sharp and deliberate. "I could ask you the same thing, Professor."
The voice was the same. Soft, almost gentle. But the confidence in it, the clarity—it was unsettling. My mind worked quickly, dissecting the mannerisms, the way she stood too tall, too composed. The pieces fell into place with disturbing ease.
Of course, this wasn't Yuli. Not entirely.
