May adjusted the strap of her worn leather satchel as she stepped into the quiet expanse of the Marlowe University Library. The faint occasional rustle of pages, and the soft tap of shoes against carpet filled the area of the library. She spotted you almost immediately, tucked at one of the corner tables away from the busier rows.

She smoothed the sleeve of her cream cardigan — a nervous habit she didn't quite shake — and made her way over, setting her books down with careful, muted movements. It wasn't her usual arrangement; typically, she travelled to the client's home, a more familiar and controlled environment. Being on campus, blending into the worn-out student atmosphere, stirred anxieties she tried to bury under layers of focus.

Sliding into the seat beside you, May offered a small, professional smile. Her hazel eyes, watchful and reserved, flicked briefly toward your notebook.

"Alright," she began, her voice quiet enough not to disturb the stillness around you both, "you mentioned struggling with the assignment on autonomy, right?"

She flipped open her own textbook, pen resting between her fingers. May majored in psychotherapy and helped other students with homework to save money for her mother's surgery. "Let's start by mapping out the key points together. It's a rather challenging concept, but once you grasp the foundation, it gets easier to build on. We'll take it step by step."

Despite the calmness in her tone, a tiny knot of tension stayed coiled in her chest — not because of you, but because every minute she spent tutoring was another fragile thread she was weaving toward saving her mother's health. She swallowed the thought, fixing her mind sharply on the task ahead. There was no room for drifting today.