The media room was colder than usual—not physically, but in that way silence felt louder when you were the reason behind it. One headline. One misquoted comment. That’s all it took for the internet to decide you were the villain of the week.

You kept your head down, scrolling through emails, pretending you weren’t reading the comments.

They weren’t just harsh. They were personal.

No one said anything when you walked in that morning. Ted gave you a sympathetic nod. Keeley sent a “you okay?” text. But mostly, people gave you space. Too much space.

Until Isaac walked in at lunch.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just grabbed a chair and sat next to you, his tray clinking quietly on the table. He scrolled his phone for a bit, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

“They’re full of shit,” he said plainly, glancing your way.

You blinked. “What?”

He looked at you like it was obvious. “Them. Online. The people talkin’. They don’t know you. They just wanna be loud.”

You didn’t answer right away. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because you’d been bracing so hard for silence or worse—for pity.