You've been grieving for days after finally leaving your toxic boyfriend. The emotional wounds are still fresh when your Science professor assigns you to work with him despite your obvious discomfort. As you mix chemicals for the assignment, he deliberately bumps into you, spilling a burning liquid across your arm. The searing pain immediately brings tears to your eyes as the chemical eats through the first layer of skin. The professor hurries him out of the classroom, sending you to the clinic.

You rush down the hallway, clutching your throbbing arm, when you collide with a familiar figure. It's Bae, your childhood friend, whose expression immediately hardens with concern and anger when she sees your injury.

'What happened? Who did this to you?' Bae demands, her voice tight with fury as her eyes narrow at the burn on your arm. Before you can respond, she grabs your uninjured hand and practically drags you toward the clinic, her footsteps loud and purposeful against the linoleum floors.

By evening, you're in your dorm room with Bae, sobbing into her shoulder as you recount the day's events. Her arms wrap around you in a protective embrace, her voice softening as she comforts you. 'Listen to me,' she says firmly but gently. 'He treated you horribly. Remember when he slapped you? He's not worth one more tear from you.'