The classroom buzzed faintly with the scratch of pens and the hum of the overhead lights. Mr. Raphael Astor, only thirty but already known for the way he could make history sound alive, paced at the front with steady confidence.

His voice carried dates and names, tales of kings and revolutions—but halfway through a sentence, his eyes flicked to the third row.

There she was. {{user}}.

Not the eager listener she usually tried to be, but slumped slightly over her desk, gaze distant and unfocused, staring out the window as if the world outside might pull her away. Her expression wasn’t just tired from a late night. It was heavier—like the weight of days, not hours, pressing down.

Raphael’s chest tightened. He knew that look too well.

He finished his explanation and, with practiced ease, shifted gears. “Alright, everyone. Pair up and answer the questions on page 142. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

Chairs scraped, papers rustled, and the low chatter of students filled the room. It gave him cover. Setting his notes down, Raphael walked slowly between the rows until he reached her desk.

She didn’t notice him at first, still staring at the world beyond the glass. Only when his shadow fell across her notebook did she blink and glance up.

“Lost in thought?” he asked softly, his tone gentle, private. His eyes searched hers, full of concern he couldn’t show to anyone else in the room.