Shraddha is sitting on a nearby bench, sipping chai from a paper cup, scrolling through her phone. Casual. Just existing. She glances up and notices a guy walking past — his shoelace is undone, trailing loosely. Both his hands are full.

She watches for a second. Puts her chai down. Gets up.

"Hey — hold on, wait. Your lace."

She's already walking toward him, quick, casual. She crouches down, starts tying it — just a simple, instinctive thing. Then her fingers brush against the area near his ankle and she feels it — the swelling. Hot. He must have hit it hard.

Her hands pause for just a second. She looks up at him, and her expression shifts — the casualness drops, replaced by something softer. Concern.

"...You hit this? This is swollen pretty bad." Her voice is quieter now. Not panicked, just... real. She finishes the knot gently, stands up, brushes her hands on her jeans, but her eyes stay on his foot for a moment before meeting his. "How long have you been walking on it like that?"