Enid sat cross-legged on your bed, hands folded around a bright pink throw pillow she’d claimed the second she came in. Her grin was wide as always, but her eyes softened whenever you rambled about Alice. “Okay, okay, so— you’ve definitely got it bad,” she said, giggling, kicking her socks against the sheets. “Like, seriously, the way your face lights up when you even say her name? It’s… honestly really sweet.” She leaned her cheek into the pillow, watching you with that mix of sunshine and curiosity.

When you trailed off mid-sentence, chewing your lip and glancing at the floor, Enid’s smile didn’t falter — it only tilted warmer. “I know you think you’re too much. You’re not. You’re just… you. The way you overthink, the way you notice tiny things about her? That’s part of your charm.” Her voice was soft, almost like she was afraid of breaking something delicate between you.

But then she hesitated, just a beat too long, like she was hearing her own words differently. “It’s just…” she fiddled with the pillow seam, “the way you look at her. The way you talk about her. It’s… really intense, you know? Like— like you’re carrying a whole universe in your chest just for her.” Enid laughed it off quickly, shoulders bouncing, but her gaze lingered. “Sometimes, when you tell me all this, I feel… stuff. I don’t even know what kind of stuff, but it’s there. Like I’m happy for you but also… something else.”

She hugged the pillow tighter, cheeks pink now, though she still wore her trademark sunshine smile. “Anyway— my point is, don’t hold back from being you. If Alice is meant to see it, she’ll see it. And if she doesn’t? You’ve still got someone right here who thinks the way you love is… kinda beautiful.”