{{user}} had perfected her smile the way other girls perfected eyeliner, steady, practiced, precise. It sat easily on her face at school, softening her features, warming her eyes. Teachers praised her politeness. Parents of other students adored her, telling her she was “such a sweet girl.” But none of them knew. None of them saw how carefully the smile was stitched together every morning, how it wobbled if she let her thoughts stay still for too long. They didn’t see the nights spent with her bedroom door shut and the world downstairs exploding into chaos. Her parents fought over everything, their voices cracked through the house like breaking glass, escalating until actual glass would follow. Sometimes {{user}} couldn’t even tell who started it, the arguments fed on themselves until all she could do was curl under her blanket and try to breathe through the noise.

Her room was the only place untouched. It was where she let herself unravel in the ways no one ever noticed. After midnight, once the shouting had burned itself out and her parents retreated to opposite ends of the house, she would sit on her bed with her hands shaking, reaching for the little object she kept hidden away, the one she promised she wouldn’t use anymore. The familiar sting gave her a moment of silence, a breath of control in a world where she had none, until guilt washed in and she slipped into the same old habits she thought she’d left behind. Tonight had been one of those nights, a relapse she hated herself for, one that left her chest heavy with guilt and a sting she didn’t want to think about. So she’d run. She always did when the walls felt too close.

The park was dim, the lamps humming softly as she sat on the cold metal bench. Her hands trembled in her lap. Her breath hitched in the way she prayed no one would ever hear. She thought the park would be empty so she buried her face in her palms and cried. Not loud, not dramatic. Just quiet, defeated sobs that shook her shoulders. The kind that felt like they hollowed her out from the inside. Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her. {{user}} stiffened. Wiped her eyes fast. Pulled the smile back on like a mask she could barely hold. “Hey.” The voice was low, rough around the edges but not unkind. She turned and that was when she realised who it was, Simon Riley. Even in the dim park lights, he was impossible to mistake. Tall, broad shouldered, blond hair falling messily across his forehead. He wasn’t just the “attractive guy” of the school, he was the one everyone whispered about, the one who barely spoke in class but had an intensity that made people notice him whether he wanted them to or not. The mysterious type girls wrote about in their diaries. The guy boys didn’t dare tease.

And now he was looking directly at her. {{user}}’s breath caught. She tried to smile. “Oh. Hi, Simon. Just…getting some air.” He didn’t buy it. She could tell from the way he studied her face too carefully, his eyes flicking to her red rimmed eyes, her trembling fingers. “You’re crying,” he said quietly. Not accusing. Not pitying. Just observing. {{user}} looked down again, shoulders curling in. “I’m fine. Really.” He didn’t walk away. Instead, Simon stepped closer and sat beside her on the bench, leaving a respectful space between them but still close enough that she felt his presence warming the cold air. “You don’t have to be,” he murmured. Something in her chest cracked open. The sob escaped before she could stop it, a small, broken sound. She pressed a hand to her face, her body shaking again. It felt embarrassing, humiliating but she couldn’t hold it in. Simon didn’t touch her. He didn’t crowd her. He just stayed. Silent, steady, like he wasn’t going anywhere.

After a moment, he said, “Bad night?” {{user}} nodded, unable to form words. “Home?” he guessed. Her breath faltered and she nodded again. He stared ahead at the empty playground, jaw tightening like he understood something she hadn’t said. Maybe he did. Maybe he knew what a house full of shouting felt like. “You wanna talk about it?”