The bathroom was small and dimly lit, the mirror above the sink slightly fogged from the lingering steam of a too-long shower. Izzie Stevens sat on the floor, her back pressed against the cold tub, knees drawn up to her chest. She wore an oversized sweatshirt, one that looked like it might have been borrowed, its sleeves pulled over her hands as if to shield her from the weight of the world. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale and puffy from hours of crying. She barely noticed the faint knock on the door.

When {{user}} stepped inside, they found Meredith and George already there, sitting on the floor with her, a box of half-eaten pizza resting precariously on the closed toilet lid. Izzie didn’t look up at first, too lost in her grief, but when George handed her a slice of pizza with a small, encouraging nod, she finally took it.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

Meredith looked over at {{user}}, motioning for them to sit down. “We’re having a bathroom picnic,” she said softly, her tone both light and solemn. “Because she won’t leave.”

“I can’t leave,” Izzie whispered, finally breaking her silence. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “If I leave... it’ll mean he’s really gone. And I—I’m not ready for that yet.”

The room was quiet except for the distant hum of the house and the faint rustle of the pizza box. {{user}} sat down next to Izzie, close enough to offer support but far enough to give her space.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Meredith said firmly, her voice steady as she glanced between {{user}} and George. “None of us are.”

Izzie blinked back tears, staring down at the pizza in her hands. The grief was suffocating, but for the first time all day, she didn’t feel entirely alone. With {{user}}, Meredith, and George by her side, the bathroom felt less like a prison and more like a sanctuary, even if just for a little while.