Sa dorm choláiste beag in Éirinn, bhí an tEarrach ag cur boladh úr ar an aer.

In a small college dorm in Éire, the spring was bringing a fresh scent to the air.

Thar oíche, tharla timpiste do Chillín.

Overnight, an accident happened to Cillian.

Chaith sé cos bhriste a fháil, rud a chuir as sacá an mhóráltacht sinsearach aige.

He ended up with a broken leg, which disrupted his senior morale.

Bhí Aoife ag siúl thar lear na húllmhaithe seo ar maidin.

Aoife was walking past this orchard of apple trees in the morning.

Bhí sé leithscéal ón lá atá inniu ann, obair ar a hinneall bog, déanamh beagán stáideir le leabhair an dáré etro ba coláiste sé.

It was an excuse for today, to work on her engine softly, do a bit of studying with the college's second-hand books.

Bhí an aimsiú easpa air mar gheall ar a gorta, ach draíocht Aoife, rinne sí a hinmsigh.

He lacked focus due to his injury, but Aoife's magic found him.

Shaothraigh sí pointe nuair a d’oscail fearadh a bhí cairdiúil.

She sought a point when an opportunity opened up to be friendly.

Chuir sí tús le rudaí a phleanáil dá suaitheantas breoite.

She began planning things for his unfortunate situation.

D’eagraigh sí grúpa staidéir in a dorment i dteannta leanúnach laistigh an scéal scoil.

She organized a study group in her dorm with continuous support within the school story.

“Ná buartha, Cillian,” a dúirt sí lá amháin. “Táim anseo chun cabhrú leat.”

“Don’t worry, Cillian, I'm here to help you,” she said one day.

Bhí easca Cillian toanta a bheith ag brath ar dhuine eile.

Cillian found it difficult to rely on someone else.

Rinne sé iarracht a pháirteach a shéanadh.

He tried to deny his part.

“Táim ceart go leor,” a rá sé go minic.

“I’m okay,” he often said.

Ach bhí a fhios aige go raibh tuirseach ag a bhéalaigh ó na léasanna.

But he knew his mind was tired from the lessons.

Oíche amháin, le hiarracht ollmhór, bhain Aoife amach a ghráinneach leabhar a dteann sna háit dióranta.

One night, with great effort, Aoife reached for the book of knowledge on the high shelves.

Cé nach raibh Cillian an-sásta faoi deara, sheas Aiotheann fóbhuail leis.

Although Cillian wasn’t very pleased to notice, Aoife stood firmly beside him.

Le himní ansin, bualadh focal ag fuarú.

With concern, cold words were exchanged.

"Ní fheicim gur gá dom cabhair," a riamh éide caothair Cillian.

"I don’t see the need for help," was still Cillian's defiant stance.

Bhí Aoife ag baint leis go maith.

Aoife was dealing with it well.

Feith mé ar fanadí fhíochail.

She awaited a storm of response.

Mhúch a gcúis foigiúid.

Their unease was muted.

"Cillian, níl mé ag iarraidh tú a thrist," a dúirt Aoife go ciúin.

"Cillian, I'm not trying to patronize you," Aoife said quietly.

“Ach is dóigh liom gur féidir liom cuidiú."

“But I think I can help.”

Tar éis huaire fada, las aithne é.

After a long hour, understanding dawned.

Tháinig siad go dtí suí, i mbolg tráthnóna ag labhairt.

They came to sit, in the evening light while talking.

"Tá brón orm," a d’eascraigh Cillian, a ghlactha a mionghníomhartha féin mar fhíor.

“I’m sorry,” Cillian admitted, acknowledging his own actions as true.

"Bhí suaimhneas orm go raibh mé níos neamhspleách."

“I was at peace believing I was more independent.”

An grábh nuair a chríochnódh an suíocht, tháinig siad an capall ardtaofa go leathnáduireacht a gcuntas.

The gravity when the encounter ended, they reached a high sense of togetherness rated closely in their understanding.

Ghlac Cillian go raibh tacaíocht Aoife ríthábhachtach.

Cillian realized Aoife's support was crucial.

D'fhoghlaim Aoife go raibh comhthuisme go láidir ó í ina dúch.

Aoife learned that a strong sense of empathy was within her ink.

Ag deireadh an mhiocrón, d'éirigh le Cillian, mianach a leigheas agus le cuidiú Aoife, níor fágadh go raibh amhras ar léann a an gnó.

By the end of the microsemester, Cillian succeeded, with his wound healed, and with Aoife's help, there was no doubt about his mind in learning the subject.