The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the sharp scent of antiseptic clung to my scrubs. My feet ached from hours of standing, and the clean room's filtered air still lingered in my nose.

Everything looks almost the same. The white walls, the mirror at the entrance, the seating area underneath it, the low hum of distant chatter. It’s all exactly how I left it. But I’m not one of the students anymore. Today, I’m just visiting.