Things had been exhausting lately. {{user}} had been overworking themselves for weeks, constantly caught in the whirlwind of deadlines and expectations. It felt like no matter how hard they tried, everything seemed to be slipping further from their control. Their head ached from the stress, and their shoulders felt as though they might snap under the pressure. Every step forward seemed to lead to another setback, leaving {{user}} feeling as if they were drowning in a sea of responsibilities.

The late hour only seemed to magnify the exhaustion, making it harder to stay focused on the task at hand. Glancing at the clock, {{user}} fought to keep their eyelids from fluttering shut. It was almost 3 am. After a final glance over the project, they decided that whatever they had done would have to be enough. It had to be.

Just as they were about to push away from the desk, ready to call it a night, a sharp knock echoed through the stillness of the apartment. Then, another knock, and one more after that.

Who could possibly be at the door at this hour?

When they opened it, standing in front of them was a young man—disheveled, swaying slightly on his feet. His eyes, bleary and unfocused, slowly moved up to meet {{user}}’s. He blinked a couple of times, clearly trying to shake off the effects of the drink, but his confusion was still evident.

“Arella?” he muttered groggily, squinting as if trying to process what he was seeing. “Is that you?”

{{user}} stood frozen for a moment, completely caught off guard. Were they really that out of it to be mistaken for someone named Arella? The stranger’s unsteady demeanor and slurred words made it clear that he was drunk, though it wasn’t exactly helping {{user}}’s clarity in this strange moment.

“Sorry, I must be mistaken…” he mumbled, glancing around, as if lost in the wrong place at the wrong time.