We stood in the corridor outside our dorm, the morning light filtering through the windows in pale yellow streaks. His face was tired, shadows etched beneath his grey eyes like he hadn't slept at all. His jaw was tight, the muscle twitching slightly as he spoke.

"Ten days," he said. "Not two weeks."

I processed this with stillness. My heart hammered behind my ribs, but I kept my breathing steady. Panic wouldn't help. Panic had never helped. I'd spent months learning to control my reactions, ...