Her hands were gripping the sink, shoulders tense, eyes locked on her reflection like it was an enemy. The bathroom light carved sharp shadows across her face, and her voice came out low, almost breaking—

“Am I really… what they say I am?”

The question landed heavy in the silence. My chest tightened because I knew exactly what she meant—the comments, the cruel words, the endless opinions that dug into her no matter how strong she tried to be.

I didn’t even think. I stepped behind her, pressing myself against her back, arms circling tight around her waist, cheek against her shoulder. “Stop.” My voice was muffled against her skin, but I didn’t care. “Stop listening to them. They don’t know you.”

She stared into the mirror, but I saw her lips part, her throat working like she was fighting tears.