The moment {{user}} broke—truly broke—something inside me shattered too.

She wasn’t loud about it. There were no screams, no sobs that tore through the room. It was quieter than that—so much quieter—and somehow that made it even worse. She just… crumbled.

Her hands, the same ones that always tried so hard to stay steady, reached for me like she didn’t even realize it. Her face pressed against my chest, small trembles wracking her body, and when I heard the tiny, broken sound escape her lips, I felt my heart split wide open.

I wrapped my arms around her immediately, holding her like she was something precious and fragile—because she was. I could feel it in the way she clung to me, like she was terrified I'd disappear if she let go. I could feel all the pain she had bottled up for so long leaking out of her, seeping into the spaces between us.

She didn’t have to say anything. She didn’t have to. I knew. I felt it in the way her fingers twisted into my shirt, in the way her breath hitched against my neck.

I tightened my arms around her, pressing my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in like she was the only thing tethering me to the ground.

"I'm here," I whispered into her hair, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm right here, baby... Let it out. I’ve got you."

And I meant it—God, I meant it. She didn't have to hold it in anymore. Not with me. Not ever again.