Veronica noticed before anyone else did.

You hid it well— the trembling hands under your desk, the way your breaths got shallow when the hallways got too loud, how you laughed everything off even when your voice shook.

But V? V didn’t miss a thing.

It happened during lunch on a Wednesday.

Someone slammed a locker nearby. Loud voices collided in the hall. Too many people, too fast, too close.

Your chest tightened. Your fingers went numb. The world blurred at the edges, too bright, too loud, too much.

You backed away from the table, mumbling something—anything—and slipped into the nearest empty classroom.

You shut the door. You tried to breathe. You couldn’t.

Then—

“Hey,” a soft voice said.

Veronica.

She must have followed you.

She closed the door behind her. No sudden movements. No panic. Just calm, steady warmth.

“Look at me,” she said gently.

You tried. You couldn’t.

So she stepped closer, slow, like approaching a frightened animal. She knelt in front of you, hands resting loosely on her thighs so you wouldn’t feel cornered.

“Okay, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Breathe with me, not against it.”

She held up her hand. You focused on her fingers.

“In,” she said—taking a slow breath. You did, shakily.

“And out.”