The Man Who Learned Her Language Wrong on Purpose

Nadia had spent six months teaching Farsi to a small evening class at the community center, mostly retirees and hobbyists, until Elias showed up in week three thirty-something, notebook in hand, asking questions no beginner should logically need to ask.

"You're already fluent," she said after class, unable to hide her suspicion. "Your accent's better than mine on some words."

Elias looked caught, faintly embarrassed. "Guilty," he admitted. "I grew up speaking it at home. My grandmother's first language."

"Then why are you sitting through a beginner's class pretending not to know the difference between formal and informal address?"

"Because," he said, a little sheepishly, "the beginner's class was the only one with an opening. And I wanted an excuse to keep showing up on Tuesdays."

Nadia crossed her arms, fighting a smile despite herself. "That's either the most elaborate way to ask someone out I've ever heard, or you're genuinely unwell."

"Bit of both, honestly," Elias said. "I kept meaning to just introduce myself properly at the community potluck last spring. I chickened out twice. Enrolling in your class felt like a safer, slower option."

"Slower being six months of deliberately mispronouncing words you already know correctly."

"When you say it like that, it does sound faintly deranged."

Nadia laughed the first real laugh she'd allowed herself all week, after a long stretch of long days and short patience. "You could have just asked me to coffee."

"I could have," Elias agreed. "But then I wouldn't have gotten six months of watching you patiently correct my grammar, which, incidentally, has been the best part of my week for a while now."

Nadia studied him, something warm settling low in her chest despite her best efforts to remain unimpressed. "Alright. Coffee. But you're paying for wasting six months of my lesson plans on someone who didn't need them."

"Every penny," Elias said, grinning. "Worth it."

to be continued... ☕💛