At lunch, he overheard her mentioning her father’s illness to a friend. Her voice was strained, the words falling heavy like stones. Jack felt a familiar tug in his chest, a recognition of that pain.

The next day, he approached her hesitantly. “Maya,” he said, “I know you’re going through a lot. If you need any help with the presentation, I’m here.”

She looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Really? I... I could use some help. Thank you, Jack.”

What began as a simple offer turned into something more. They worked late, long after the office had emptied. Over coffee breaks, they traded stories—her father’s battle with illness, Jack’s own struggles with finding meaning. They laughed more than Jack had expected and shared more than he intended. 

Helping Maya reminded him of his high school art teacher, Mrs. Stevens, who always believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. It was a warm memory in a sea of gray.