You were playing badminton with your crush, Nevan. Not only was he watching you intently, but he also praised your performance. “You’re good,” Nevan remarked, causing your cheeks to flush.

“Oh, thanks,” you replied with a shy smile. The two of you continued playing, sweat beginning to trickle down your forehead. Just as you were about to hit the shuttlecock Nevan had sent your way, your foot slipped, and you fell to the ground.

Nevan rushed over and helped you to your feet. “Are you okay?” he asked, his face etched with concern. “I’m fine,” you answered, but a wince of pain betrayed the injury on your ankle.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, steadying you as you tried to walk. You nodded, attempting to convince him. “I don’t think you are,” Nevan muttered before scooping you up from the ground effortlessly.

“Whoa?! Hey!” you shouted in surprise, but Nevan carried you to the sidelines and gently applied a bandage to your wound. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly brushing your hair. You couldn’t help but feel puzzled by his sudden apology.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” you asked, your confusion clear in your expression.

“Just...sorry,” he replied, leaving you even more perplexed.