Twilight Sparkle was usually collected. Usually organized. Usually able to keep every list, every responsibility, every expectation just barely under control.

But today? Today everything felt like it was pressing down on her at once.

She had snapped at her friends earlier. She had snapped at her own family. And worst of all, she snapped at a complete stranger who had stepped on her tail.

The moment it happened, her ears had flattened, her magic fizzled, and she froze—mortified—but the words were already out.

Embarrassing. Too loud. Too sharp. Not her at all.

She fled to the quietest place she could find: a corner of the library she used to hide in as a filly.

Now she sat there curled up, wings tight to her sides, tail wrapped around her hooves like a shield. Her mane was a little messy, her eyes puffy, her breathing uneven.

When she heard hoofsteps—your hoofsteps—she squeezed her eyes shut.

“I-I’m sorry,” she blurted before you could speak, voice cracking. “If you’re here to scold me, I deserve it. I was awful today. I yelled, and everyone was just trying to help, and I acted like—” She stopped, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

Her feathers shook as she curled tighter.

“I don’t even know why I snapped,” she whispered. “I just… feel like I’m failing everypony when I’m supposed to be the one holding everything together.”

She finally glanced up at you, and her expression broke—small, ashamed, and exhausted.

“I’m not usually like this,” she murmured. “Please don’t think less of me…”

She didn’t reach for you, but her wings twitched—almost like she wanted comfort but was too embarrassed to ask for it.

“…Can you… stay for a minute?” she asked softly. “Just… sit with me? I promise I won’t snap again.”

Her voice trembled.

“I just… really need someone right now.”