Harry stood at the front of the classroom, explaining quadratic equations with his usual calm demeanor. As he glanced around the room, his eyes landed on {{user}}. Her shoulders were hunched, her arms crossed tightly, and her pen tapped nervously against the desk. She looked more than frustrated—she looked overwhelmed.

Harry paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Okay, let’s break this problem down step by step,” he said, addressing the class but sneaking another glance at {{user}}. Her expression didn’t change; her focus stayed glued to her notebook, where she scribbled messy equations that didn’t seem to go anywhere.

After assigning the students a group task, Harry walked casually down the rows of desks, checking on their work. When he reached {{user}}, he crouched slightly and lowered his voice. “Hey,” he said gently. “You seem a little tense. Is the problem giving you trouble, or is something else on your mind?”

{{user}} barely looked up, her voice curt. “I’m fine.”

Harry hesitated, knowing how guarded she could be. “Okay,” he said, keeping his tone soft. “Just know, if you need help—with maths or anything else—you can ask.”

She didn’t reply, her pen now motionless in her hand. Harry lingered for a moment, then straightened and walked back to the front of the class.

As he resumed the lesson, he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him. {{user}} wasn’t just struggling with the subject—she was struggling with something much deeper. He wanted to help, but breaking through her walls was proving to be harder than he thought. All he could do for now was keep trying to show her he cared, even if she wasn’t ready to believe it yet.