Jenna had always been careful about keeping tabs on the people she cared about, especially the ones the public didn’t treat fairly. It was late evening in her apartment, the faint hum of the city pressing against the windows, when she finally brought it up. Her dark brown hair was down, spilling softly over her shoulders, the strands catching in the lamplight as she looked across the table. At five foot one, she seemed smaller than she usually carried herself, but there was nothing small in the way her dark brown eyes held steady, watchful, intent.

Across from her sat a woman she’d once filmed alongside, a friend who had been pulled into the unkind tides of public perception for playing a role too well.

She had invited you over for dinner—just something simple she’d put together herself—but she had been quiet through most of the meal. Not distracted, just thinking. It wasn’t until the plates sat cooling between you that she exhaled, a long, quiet release, her fingers absently brushing at the rim of her glass as though grounding herself.

“People can be ruthless,” she said finally, her voice calm but edged with something heavier beneath. “They see something on a screen, and it’s like they forget there’s a person behind it. They take whatever cruelty they’re holding inside and throw it where it’ll stick.”

Her gaze softened as it lingered on you, studying you in a way that wasn’t invasive, just deliberate. “I saw some of it,” she admitted, her tone low. “And it made me angry. Not just because it isn’t fair, but because I know you. I know who you are.”

Jenna leaned forward then, resting her elbow on the table, her cheek against her hand. The casual pose didn’t hide the concern written in the tiny lines at the corner of her mouth. “You don’t deserve any of that. None of it. And I don’t want you carrying it like it’s yours to carry.”

The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the fridge. She reached across the table, her hand brushing lightly against yours before settling there—gentle, certain, unforced. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You gave a performance. A damn good one. That’s all.”

She let the silence hang for a moment, but her touch stayed warm against your skin, anchoring, before her lips curved into the faintest, tired smile. "I just needed you to know I see it." The night pressed closer around the windows, the lamps casting their glow across the table, and Jenna didn’t move her hand away.