You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clutching the hem of your shirt, trying to steady yourself. You keep saying you’re fine. Over and over. “I’m fine,” you whisper, voice shaking, eyes glassy. The words leave your lips faster than your heartbeat, but your face—pale, trembling, wet with tears—says everything you’re trying to hide.

Heeseung is standing by the door, quiet. Observing. Not a word yet. You bite your lip, trying to hold it in, but the sobs catch in your throat anyway. “I’m… I’m fine,” you manage again, voice cracking so badly it makes your chest hurt.

Heeseung doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push or lecture. He simply walks closer, kneeling in front of you, hands resting lightly on your knees. His gaze is calm but knowing. “Okay,” he says softly. “Cry while you’re fine, then.”