Ethan slumped further into the nurse’s office chair, arms wrapped loosely around himself. His backpack sagged to the floor, hoodie crumpled, eyes half-lidded. Every muscle in his body screamed exhaustion, but he forced a weak, polite smile at Mrs. Hartley.

  “Ethan… I’m genuinely concerned,” Mrs. Hartley said, leaning forward on her desk. Her eyes were soft, but serious. “This isn’t just the usual ‘staying up te for homework’ fatigue. You look… drained. Pale. Even your posture is off. Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough?”

  Ethan swallowed. He wanted to answer “Yes,” but even that felt like a lie.

  “I… uh… I’m fine,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

  Mrs. Hartley’s brow furrowed. She pced her pen down and folded her hands together. “You know, Ethan, if something’s going on, I can help. You don’t have to… hide it.”

  The words stabbed. Hide it.

  He froze, his fingers brushing against the neckce under his hoodie. A small surge of warmth tickled his chest — a memory, a whisper, a pull reminding him of Eri.

  He clenched his fists slightly, forcing his head up. “It’s… nothing. Just tired. Nothing serious.”

  Mrs. Hartley tilted her head, studying him. “Hmm. You sure? This kind of exhaustion doesn’t just happen overnight. You’re probably trying to push yourself too hard. Or… maybe something is worrying you? Stress, anxiety, pressures at home or school…”

  Ethan’s throat tightened. He could feel the invisible weight of Eri pressing at the edges of his consciousness, craving release, craving to come forward. And it was all connected. His exhaustion, his ck of sleep, his longing — everything. But he couldn’t say it aloud.

  “No… it’s just… school,” he said finally, voice low, careful. “I guess I’m just… stressed.”

  Mrs. Hartley leaned back, eyes softening but still concerned. “Ethan… you’re carrying more than you should. I can tell. And sometimes… when you don’t let yourself rest, the body reacts in ways the mind doesn’t understand. Fatigue, dizziness, even fainting. You’ve been close to colpsing more than once.”

  He swallowed, looking down at his hands. He couldn’t tell her that part of his stress was being her, wanting to be Eri, and how that desire had taken over his nights. He just… nodded.

  “I… I’ll try to rest more,” he said quietly, the closest thing he could manage to the truth without actually revealing it.

  Mrs. Hartley nodded slowly. “Good. Because your health is important, Ethan. I don’t want to see you push yourself until you’re on the verge of breaking. And if there’s… anything else going on — anything at all — I want you to feel like you can talk to me. Even if it feels silly. Even if it feels… complicated.”

  His eyes flickered toward the neckce hidden beneath his shirt. He knew she didn’t fully understand — couldn’t possibly — but her words carried a strange comfort.

  “I… thanks,” he said softly. “I’ll… try.”

  Mrs. Hartley gave him a reassuring smile. “Alright. But I mean it. Take care of yourself. And if you start to feel faint again, don’t wait. Just lie down here. I’ll be right here with you.”

  Ethan nodded again, curling slightly into himself, trying to keep the memory of Eri at bay just long enough to survive the rest of the day.

  And as he sat there, listening to the faint hum of the fluorescent lights, he made a quiet promise to himself:Tonight, he would become Eri again. And maybe — just maybe — she would finally get the rest, the freedom, the life she deserved.