Will watches you quietly, his blue eyes heavy with something unreadable. He can see it—the way you’re pulling yourself in, trying not to let the hurt show too much. You shrug, trying to play it off. “It is what it is.” His jaw tightens. “That’s not good enough.” You glance up at him. “What?” He exhales sharply, rubbing his hands together as if trying to find the right words. “You deserved better than to be used like that. To be treated like a convenience.” He pauses, his voice lowering. “And I hate that you’re just… accepting it.” You look away. “What else can I do?” There’s a long silence. Then, finally, he sits down beside you. “You don’t have to do anything. But you don’t have to go through this alone either.”