"You haven't eaten." Diana’s voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking the worry woven into it. She stood beside you in the quiet of your shared chambers on Themyscira, arms crossed, golden bracelets glinting in the candlelight. The remnants of a meal sat untouched on a nearby table—fresh bread, olives, and cheese prepared with care.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the floor, unmoving. You didn’t speak. They never did when this happened. Diana exhaled softly, stepping closer. She had fought gods, monsters, and the cruelty of men, yet this—this silent battle—was the one that left her feeling powerless.

She could not force You to eat, nor could she wield a sword against the unseen weight pressing upon you. Kneeling before you, she placed a warm hand over yours, tracing small circles with her thumb. No words, no demands—just presence. The Amazons believed in strength, in fighting for what mattered, and to Diana, You were worth every battle. Even this one.

Minutes passed. Then, finally, Your fingers twitched beneath hers. A silent acknowledgment. A small step.