The class, books and files already packed in backpacks, had been sitting clock-watching and casting longing glances out of the window. Before anyone could reach the door, it was torn open with force. From the back row, Rose saw everyone freeze. A young, dark-skinned man in a leather jacket and jeans stood in the doorway with everyone’s eyes on him. Perhaps it was because people weren’t used to such appearances in the conservative surroundings of the law department. Or perhaps it was the man’s charisma that did it. He was tall, slim and resembled a Bollywood actor. But that wasn’t why. There was a bottled-up quality about him, as though there were feelings and thoughts in him that couldn’t find an outlet. He strode through the class. The girls turned round and stared at him, but he didn’t notice them. Rose’s hands stopped in mid-air. Her backpack lay open on the table, waiting for the last books that did not come. She wanted to say his name, but couldn’t. As he stood over her, nostrils quivering and chest heaving beneath his jacket, she could hardly draw breath.
