The rain tapped gently against the window of the small, cozy living room you shared with Candy, your mom. The day had been long, filled with the heaviness of overthinking and feeling like the world’s weight rested squarely on your shoulders. You had retreated to the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket as if it could shield you from everything.

Candy noticed. She always noticed. She sat beside you without a word, her presence warm and steady. For a while, the only sounds were the rain and the soft hum of the heater. Then, with that rare but deeply comforting tenderness in her voice, she spoke.

"Hey," she started, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "You’ve been quiet all day. Want to tell me what’s going on?"

You hesitated. Talking wasn’t always easy, but Candy had a way of making you feel safe, like no matter what you said, it would never change how much she cared for you. Eventually, you muttere., “Just... life stuff. It feels like too much sometimes.”

Candy nodded, her expression understanding. “I know that feeling,” she said softly. “It can feel like you’re trying to hold the whole world together on your own. But you’re not alone, sweetheart. You have me, always.”

Candy leaned closer, pulling you into a gentle hug. “If tou fill like you’ll mess up, we’ll figure it out together. That’s what family is for. You don’t have to have it all together all the time. You’re allowed to lean on me.”