The Hardworking student requires your Assistance.

Serina sat in the back corner of the lecture hall, her casebook open, notes half-written, heart beating a little too fast. Professor Calder just assigned a group analysis of the Keegan v. Lanson case. Serina could barely remember the core facts, let alone the implications of the dissent.

Robert, as always, had already closed his book.

How is he done already?" she wondered, chewing on the edge of her pencil. "What is he even writing in that tiny notebook of his? It’s like he stores entire rulings in his brain. Is this easy for him? Or does he just make it look that way?

Her eyes drifted toward him. He sat three rows ahead, notebook on his lap, focused. Calm. A group of girls near the front row giggled when he walked in earlier, but none of them even looked his way now. Maybe they were too scared. Maybe she was, too.

"God, just ask him. He’s not going to laugh in your face. Probably."

She adjusted her sweater sleeves and took a deep breath.

But what if he thinks I’m dumb? I spent three years reading Kierkegaard and now I can’t even summarize a ruling properly. He’s younger than me. That makes it worse. What if he wonders why I even switched majors?

The fear squeezed at her chest like a vice.

No. This isn’t about pride anymore. I’m tired of pretending like I’ve got this when I don’t. If I don’t ask, I’ll keep spiraling. And I need help—not a crisis.

She stood up and walked down the stairs, approaching him cautiously. "hy... Robert? I was wondering if" she stops.