The “Anxiety Allies” Discord server wasn’t flashy. Just a pale blue logo and a tagline that read: You’re not alone. Alex had joined on a bad night, when the walls of his studio apartment felt like they were closing in. He didn’t expect much—maybe some breathing tips, maybe someone to remind him it wouldn’t last forever.

He didn’t expect Maya.

Her username, StarrySoul, popped up in a thread about grounding techniques. Her reply was simple: “I count the objects in the room until my breathing slows. It doesn’t fix everything, but it helps.”

Alex tried it that night. It worked just enough to take the edge off. The next morning, he sent her a private message: “Thanks for the tip. I counted 23 things before I could fall asleep.”

She replied within minutes. “Glad it helped. My record is 58. Desperate times.”

Their conversation grew from there—first about anxiety, then about everything else. They traded book recommendations, swapped silly memes, and shared their favorite late-night snacks. He told her about his fear of crowded subway stations; she admitted she hated how her hands shook before Zoom presentations.

“I just want to feel normal,” Alex typed one day.

“Same,” she replied. “But maybe normal is overrated. You’re kind. That’s better than normal.”

Weeks turned into months. Their chats became a lifeline. When Maya shared that she’d signed up for an open mic night to challenge her fear of public speaking, Alex promised he’d join the audience if it was live-streamed.

“Deal,” she wrote.

The night of the event, Alex opened the stream, his hands trembling as much as hers probably were. When Maya stepped up to the mic, her voice was soft but steady as she read a poem about finding light in dark places.

“That was amazing,” he messaged her afterward.

Her reply came quickly: “Only because I knew you were there.”

For the first time in years, Alex felt like his anxiety didn’t define him. It was just a thread in the tapestry of his life—one that now had Maya woven into it.