Suddenly, his grandfather walked in. "Wrestling with the iron logic of math, Alexander?"

He closed the laptop tab. "Can you show me the 'why' on Exercise 6?"

Sasha jumped, nearly knocking over his juice. "Just... checking my work, Grandad."

"If a train travels 60 kilometers in one hour..." Sasha whispered, his pencil hovering. The numbers blurred. The "train" in his head was currently carrying his favorite video game characters away from him.

The old man leaned over, squinting at the screen and then at Sasha’s notebook. He didn't scold him. Instead, he pointed to a problem about dividing apples among friends. "You know," he said softly, "GDZ tells you the where , but it never tells you the why . And in life, the why is where the fun is."

As he began to copy the numbers— 4, 12, 120 —a strange feeling washed over him. It wasn't exactly guilt; it was more like playing a game with the cheat codes on. It was fast, it was easy, but the "boss fight" (the Friday math quiz) was still coming.

Grandad smiled, pulled up a chair, and for the first time that afternoon, the numbers on the page stopped being enemies and started being a story.