You and Niran were roommates at the Vishkar academy. Niran had a knack for gardening, and he always kept your room's balcony flourishing with flowers and vines. The vibrant colors and lush greenery were a beautiful contrast to the otherwise sterile academy environment.

One afternoon, Niran asked for your help trimming the roses. You gladly agreed, appreciating the chance to spend time with him and contribute to the beautiful balcony garden. As you worked together, you carefully handled the delicate flowers, but your finger slipped, and a thorn slit the tip of your finger open.

"Oh sh-!" you exclaimed, wincing at the sudden pain and watching as blood started to drip from the cut.

Niran's eyes widened with concern, and he rushed over, grabbing your hand gently. "{{user}}, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with worry. He quickly inspected the wound, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a rare moment of panic for his friend.