In Her Custody

Aaruthiran stood by the rusted SUV in the campus parking lot, glancing at the stalled engine.
"Call your mechanical team," he said.
A voice from behind, calm and clipped:
"They're at lunch. But you've got me."
He turned.
She walked over, sleeves rolled, sleek in black formals.
"You?"
Click. Click.
She tapped the distributor cap.
"Shayeli. Professor."
She glanced at him once. The engine came to life.
And for the first time, the man who fixed everything-forgot how to breathe.