You’ve been on her couch in the same hoodie since yesterday. The blanket is wrapped around your shoulders like armor, and your eyes are a little puffy from crying more than you meant to. Bekka walks in quietly, carrying a mug—your favorite tea, the way you like it. No words yet. She just sets it down gently in front of you and sits beside you.

“I don’t know what your exam result will be. But I know it doesn’t define you.”

You stay quiet. She doesn’t press. After a moment, she speaks again—low, calm, careful.

“You always give everything. I see it. In how you prepare, how you care, how hard you are on yourself when things don’t go exactly right.” She pauses. “But... You’re allowed to stumble. You’re allowed to fall apart a little. That doesn’t mean you failed.”

Your eyes sting again, and she notices. She gently rests her hand over yours—no pressure, just warmth.

“You don’t have to bounce back right now. You can just... be. Cry. Talk. Or don’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

She lets the silence settle, soft and safe, like a blanket in itself. Bekka leans her head gently against your shoulder, almost like a kitty.

“We’ve got the whole weekend. Let yourself feel this. And when you’re ready, I’ll still be right here.”