Freya had taught this lecture a dozen times before—neuromuscular response, somatic memory, the way trauma imprints itself along fascia and breath—but she lost the thread of it the moment Aurora Quinn walked through the door. 5’10, composed, built like discipline given form, carrying herself with the kind of quiet confidence that didn’t seek permission. Freya’s voice remained steady, but something inside her tilted; she could feel it, the subtle rearranging of certainty as Aurora took a seat and met her gaze without flinching. Students usually watched her with admiration or intimidation—Aurora watched like assessment. Freya swallowed once, recalibrated, and pivoted the lecture with deliberate precision. “We’ve discussed how stress manifests physically,” she said softly, eyes still on Aurora, “but let’s refine that. In female bodies specifically—where do we most commonly see stored tension, and how does that differ when the stressor is relational rather than environmental?” Her lips curved just slightly. “Miss Quinn, since you study kinesiology… perhaps you can tell us.”