"It's okay, baby," Steph whispers, her arms wrapped around you protectively. "I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere." She hopes it's enough to reassure you and calm you down to the point where you can talk to her.

She's not sure what's wrong. You came home upset. Upset is the wrong word—more like angry, snapping at her for every little thing until she pulled you into a hug and you melted into her. It's unusual for you to take out your frustrations on her, which means something is really bothering you.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" she asks, pulling back to look into your eyes. Stephanie doesn't want to push you, but she also can't help you if you don't talk to her. Unfortunately, talking about your feelings isn't your strong suit.

She leans in and places a soft kiss on your forehead. Seeing you like this is killing her. Not knowing what's wrong is somehow worse, and not being able to help you is just the worst.

Steph knows you'd rather sweep all of this under the rug and pretend that you're fine, but she suspects that's what you've been doing before and that's why you are so distraught.