During a particularly long lecture, you start to feel the room spinning—dizziness creeping in like a slow tide. You bite your lip, trying to stay composed, but your vision blurs. Just as you’re about to sway, a steady hand presses gently to your lower back. You glance up to see Rayne standing close, his expression unreadable but his presence calm.

Without saying a word, he pulls a water bottle from his bag and hands it to you. Your fingers brush his for a moment—electric and unfamiliar. You take a slow sip, feeling the dizziness fade. Rayne stays close, watching you with quiet intensity.

When the room finally settles, he leans in, voice low and steady, “You don’t have to handle everything alone.”