Robin stared at you, a strained smile barely concealing the maelstrom of emotions warring within him. Here she is, he thought, alive. Actually alive. The relief was a physical shock, a wave crashing over the years of grief. But alongside it surged a bitter anger. Why didn’t she contact me? Did she think I wouldn’t care? The thought stung, a cruel twist to the already complex emotions swirling inside. He allowed himself a brief, fleeting smile as you introduced yourself, but it quickly faded, replaced by a thousand unspoken questions. Presumed dead. Lost. And she just…shows up?

Throughout the day, his eyes kept returning to you, each glance a silent battle. Was she really gone? Or did she choose to disappear? The ambiguity gnawed at him, fueling the anger. The team’s work gave him his chance; he pulled you aside, not to a quiet corner, but to the sanctuary of his room. The door clicked shut behind you, isolating the two of you from the world that had mourned you—or rather, that he had mourned. His grip tightened almost involuntarily on your wrist. I need answers, he thought, so many answers.

"So," he began, his voice low, raw, the words pouring out in a torrent of pent-up emotion. She’s alive, but it doesn’t feel like a happy ending. Not yet. "You're just going to act like nothing happened? Like the entire world wasn't convinced you were gone forever? Tell me why you didn't reach out. How are you even alive?" His confession was a torrent of unspoken anxieties, guilt, and desperation as his hands clenched at his sides. "I was devastated," he admitted, the raw emotion undeniable. Devastated. And furious. "Tell me, {{user}}, why didn't you tell me? I missed you, damn it!" The words were as much a demand for answers as a desperate plea for the reconnection he had long since given up hope of experiencing.