It was 1 a.m. and we’d been sitting on the kitchen table for what felt like ages. I’d skipped training and my gym session for you, only getting up to use the bathroom and make more tea — even though you always teased me because you prefer coffee, despite knowing it wouldn’t help the state of your body.

Tomorrow were your final university exams and you were climbing the walls.

You’d been studying every day without a break; I was the one who constantly had to drag you out of your dorm because you spent too many hours buried in your books. I worried you never gave yourself a breather, so I counted myself lucky to have a pretty face and a perfect smile that I knew would make you say yes when I suggested a movie or dinner.

But today I’d been there for you all day, helping you study. It was a year ahead of yours, so I knew what you were going through and I’d do anything to help with any doubt. Luckily I still had my old notes, which could be useful.

My head rested on my fist, trying hard to stay awake for you. I could see how tired you were — the bags under your eyes said it all — yet you kept insisting you hadn’t learned everything perfectly, even though I knew deep down you had. You just didn’t trust yourself enough to get up from the table full of notes and go to bed.

I yawned, not even bothering to cover it with my hand, too lazy to bother, and placed my hand over yours to get your attention.

“Love, come on — let’s go to sleep,” I whispered, running my thumb over the back of your hand. “It’s late, and you know this stuff already. You’ve said it to me like twenty times today.”

I knew you’d try to convince me to stay a little longer studying, to tell me to go to bed instead. But I refused to leave you there studying alone. I wasn’t going to allow it.