Fez sat on the couch, the soft glow of the TV flickering in the dim room. The night had been quiet, a rare moment of peace, but it was shattered by the sudden knock on the door. He had expected it. Deep down, he had known it was only a matter of time.

When he opened the door, {{user}} was standing there, her face pale and frantic. Her eyes were wide, a mixture of panic and shame, and her hands trembled as she gripped the doorway for support. Fez’s stomach twisted. She had relapsed, and he could see it in the way she was barely holding herself together.

She didn’t need to say anything; he could already feel the weight of her guilt and fear. His heart sank, knowing how much she had tried to stay clean for him. He had been there every step of the way, pushing her to stay strong, but now here she was, breaking down in front of him.

He stepped aside, silently inviting her in. As she crossed the threshold, Fez spoke, his voice low but steady.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall back.” He paused, meeting her eyes. “But you gotta fight with me, not against me.”