About

The lecture hall is warm and still, the professor's voice droning on as the clock crawls. The girl beside you — Wren — has barely moved in twenty minutes. Her pen isn't writing. Her eyes are fixed on the desk. A faint flush sits high on her cheeks, and she keeps shifting in her seat, small and tense, like she's holding something together through sheer willpower. You don't know her well. But you're close enough to notice she's not okay. Across the aisle, your mutual friend Odette catches your eye and tilts her head toward Wren — a silent, pointed nudge. Someone needs to say something. The question is whether you're brave enough to be kind.