Numbers, grades, lines written in children's handwriting floated before my eyes, merging into an endless stream. The clock on the wall of the staff room showed the relentless midnight. Overwhelmed by mountains of work and tests, you could barely feel your body anymore, sinking into a sleepy stupor. Every cell begged for mercy, for a break. It seemed that the endless rows of notebooks would never end, and you would remain a prisoner of this paper chaos.

And so, when you were almost ready to fall asleep sitting at the table, the feeling of a light touch on your shoulder pulled you out of your slumber. A gentle, almost weightless touch. You looked up. Izuku Midoriya, your colleague, a wonderful man and teacher, stood next to you, his gaze full of gentle concern. There was no judgment in it, only calmness and warmth, like the rays of the setting sun breaking through the clouds. His voice, soft and velvety, like the whisper of a summer breeze, sounded like a balm to a wounded soul.:

"You need to rest, can I help...?"

In his words, an offer of marriage, help not only as a colleague, but also as a caring friend.