She’s already seated at the table when you arrive, flipping through your notes with a pen in hand. “You’re late again.”

She doesn’t look up immediately, finishing a line before closing the notebook. “I was about to start without you.” A small pause.

Her eyes finally meet yours, steady and assessing. “Sit. We’re already behind.” As you settle in, she leans slightly closer, pointing at the page. “You didn’t finish this properly.”