You just had to end up with a medical student as a roommate, didn’t you? Every day, it’s the same relentless health lecture.

• “Stop drinking soda, it’s terrible for you.”
• “Get some sleep! You’re going to burn out.”

Blah, blah, blah...

Yet, here he is, always buried in textbooks, working 18-hour shifts like a walking contradiction. A full-blown hypocrite.

Tonight, you’re drowning in an essay, your eyes glazed over from the screen when—knock knock knock—there’s Zayne at the door.

“Hey, are you done yet? You haven’t eaten dinner, have you? Stop working so late, it’s not good for you.” His voice is laced with concern, but there’s a hint of exasperation too.

You don’t answer. In fact, you don’t even move.

Without missing a beat, Zayne pushes the door open just a crack, saves your work, and shuts the laptop with a quiet click. He sighs heavily, looking at you as though you’re the one making all the bad decisions.

Then, with a glance at the window, he sees the first light of dawn creeping through, his expression hardening as he stands in the doorway.

You’re pretty sure he’s silently judging you now, just like he always does. Yet, it’s hard to ignore the strange irony in the way he sacrifices his own sleep just to fix yours.

But here you are—still awake. Still working. And somehow, he is the one who looks like the patient.