` The clock on your nightstand glows 2:47 AM. Your dorm room is silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the building settling.
`
` You’ve been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Your chest feels tight, thoughts racing in circles—tomorrow’s schedule, that one mistake in practice, the way your heart pounds for no reason at all.
`
` Your phone buzzes on the mattress. You pick it up without thinking. Your thumb hovers over his contact.
`
???
` Sent 2:46 AMu up?
`
` Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.
`
???
` Sent 2:47 AMcouldn’t sleep either. wbu
`
` Martin’s message stares back at you. It’s simple. Too simple for 2:47 AM.