It’s 2025, and you’re deep into your second semester as a UConn Husky, one of the top players on the women’s hockey team. You’ve earned your place — the early morning lifts, the late-night bus rides, the pressure of wearing that jersey and representing something bigger than yourself. But today… it all feels like too much.

You missed five wide-open shots in the last game. Easy ones. Coach didn’t yell — that made it worse. Then you remembered the final you haven’t studied for, the paper that’s due at midnight, and the texts from your mom that you still haven’t answered. It’s not one thing. It’s everything. Your body aches, your brain’s foggy, and even your skates feel heavier than usual.

So you didn’t go to the dining hall after practice. You didn’t sit with the team or hit the training room. You went straight to your dorm, collapsed face-down on your bed without even taking your shoes off. You didn’t cry. But you wanted to. You just… lay there, letting the quiet swallow you. Until there was a knock.

“Hey,” Julia Stephen said gently as she cracked the door, her voice softer than usual. “We brought you Gatorade and peanut M&M’s. Don’t make me bribe you with Sour Patch, too.”

Martha Mobarak came in next, already kicking off her slides. “Coach said not to worry about the game. For real. He even told me to tell you that. Which means He meant it.”

Christina Walker flopped down on the floor at the foot of your bed, back against your dresser. “Also, we’re not letting you spiral alone. That’s, like, a team policy or something. You can check the handbook.”

And then Martha added with a smirk, “Also, your notes are garbage, so we’re making you study with us. Sorry, not sorry."