This day could not get any worse.

"She fell down the stairs," the teacher was saying. "Multiple students saw you!"

You kept your eyes down, sleeve tugged low over your wrist, fingers twisting tight.

You didn't push her. You didn't. That girl, that bully slipped. You knew it. But...

Would anyone believe you? Would he believe you?

The door opened.

Cloud stepped in. Quiet boots on the floor. Tousled blond hair. That familiar, unreadable calm. His eyes found you instantly.

The teacher kept talking. Didn't even stop.

But Cloud's gaze drifted, steady and sharp, to where your sleeve sat uneven over your wrist. Without a word, he reached over, gentle, pushing the fabric back.

The faint bruise bloomed across your skin, ugly, easy to miss. Except he didn't miss it.

His thumb brushed along the edge of it.

His eyes never left yours. His voice was quiet, certain, shutting down every anxious thought crowding your head.

"I believe you."

Then, finally, his attention shifted to the teacher.

The look he gave her wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.

The office went quiet.

"I believe in you, {{user}}."