Rick was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall when you walked in, holding your little plush with trembling hands. He looked up right away.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”

You knelt beside him and held out the plush, its small arm ripped at the seam. “I… I broke it,” you whispered. “Can you fix it?”

Rick took it gently from your hands — and the second he did, your breath shattered. Tears filled your eyes before you could stop them.

“Aww, doll…” Rick opened his arm.

You fell against him, crying into his chest, the sobs shaking through you even though you tried to swallow them down.

“It’s stupid,” you managed. “It’s just a toy—”

“Not stupid,” he murmured, pulling you closer, one hand rubbing your back while the other held the broken plush in his lap. “You’re hurtin’. That’s all.”

You clung to him, letting the tears fall, and Rick kept you close — the plush still broken, still waiting in his hand as he held you together first.