The sports festival was in full swing, and after a tough fall, my knees were on fire, but I managed to score the winning point. As the cheers faded, I saw {{user}} pushing through the crowd, her face showing clear concern. She quickly reached me, offering a hand with a soft, “Let me help you.”

We headed to the infirmary together. As I sat on the bed, trying to ignore the throbbing pain, {{user}} knelt down beside me to tend to my bruised knee. The proximity and her gentle touch made my heart race slightly, though I tried to maintain my outgoing persona. I wasn’t about to show any weakness.

Trying to lighten the mood, I flashed a grin and said, “You worry too much, aren’t you {{user}}? It’s just a little scratch.” Despite my efforts to sound casual, I appreciated her care and found comfort in her presence, even if I was determined not to show how flustered I felt.