ecause there was always something to chase. Time. Money. Marks. Breath. She no longer walked like someone with purpose, but someone on borrowed energy. Her steps were efficient. Automatic. Robotic. If

ation?" That line stayed with her for days. She wondered if he meant it academically, or if he somehow saw through her. One night, after a back-to-back shift and a study session that left her dizzy with fatigue, Juliana stopped at the vending machine outside the dormitory library. She had a single pound coin left. Enough for crackers or tea. She picked the crackers. They jammed in the coil and didn't fall. She stared at the packet, barely holding back a bitter laugh. She pressed the return button twice. Nothing. Just the hum of machinery and her reflection in the scratched glass. She didn't cry. Not until a voice beside her said gently, "Sometimes I think vending machines are the cruelest inventions on Earth." She turned. Professor Hargreaves. Same charcoal coat. Same unreadable expression. This time, he was holding two cups of takeaway tea. "I didn't think you knew where students lived," she said, surprised. "I live nearby," he replied, offering her one of the cups. "And I don't sleep much." She hesitated. Then took it. The heat startled her. Her fingers tingled from the sudden warmth. He nodded toward the vending machine. "Twist the bottom left corner. Backward. Then give it a sharp tap." She raised an eyebrow. "It works. Usually," he added. She followed his instructions. The crackers dropped. A small, stunned laugh escaped her. "You're a vending machine whisperer." He gave the faintest smirk. "Among other things." They sat on the bench nearby, tea warming their hands. Students passed in pairs and threes, heads bowed under umbrellas. Laughter floated somewhere in the distance. But here, between them, there was quiet. "Why did you really offer to help me?" she asked softly. He studied the steam from his tea. "Because you're drowning. And unlike most people who drown, you don't make a sound." She was quiet. "You remind me of someone I loved." "Your wife?" she asked. He nodded once. "She was loud. Bold. She filled every room she walked into. She cried during commercials. Argued with strangers in bookstores. She believed in people even when they didn't believe in themselves." Juliana smiled faintly. "And you?" "I stayed in the shadows. I listened more