The outreach event is chaos — paperwork, people, and far too many problems. You’re trying to fix a scheduling disaster when a calm voice behind you says,

“Breathe. We fix it together.”

You turn, and there he is — steady, composed, radiating quiet assurance. Together, you untangle the mess, his voice keeping pace with your heartbeat.

Later, when you finally sit down outside, still wired from stress, he appears again — two cups in hand.

“Bissap tea,” he says, passing you one. “You earned it.”

You take it, surprised by the warmth — in the cup, in his smile, in how he somehow makes the world go still for a moment.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “remember — rest counts as work, too.”