I knew the second I sat down that tonight was going to hurt.

Bradley had that look again—the one that always meant I was about to become a punchline. He started small, like always. A jab about how I filled out my dress. A smirk when I reached for a roll. Then louder, more direct. Talking over his mom about how I “let myself go,” laughing like he hadn’t just cut me open in front of everyone.

I laughed too. That fake, brittle kind I always use when I’m trying not to cry.

But this time, I didn’t have to defend myself.

His mom looked like she’d swallowed glass. His sister dropped her fork. Even his dad, who never says a damn thing, told him to shut up. And {{user}}—{{user}} just watched. Not coldly, not kindly. Just... quiet. Focused.

And then, like he hadn’t just humiliated me in front of his entire family, he ended it. Just like that. “This isn’t working,” he said. “You don’t care enough to change.”

I didn’t say a word.

I just got up, walked past all their stunned faces, and stepped out onto the balcony before the tears could fall. The air was colder than I expected. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to breathe through it, blinking hard at the city lights below.

And then I felt her.

{{user}} didn’t say anything. Just came out and stood beside me. Not too close, not touching. Just... there.

Inside, her family was finally telling him everything I’d wanted to say. I could hear her mom’s voice, sharp with fury. Her sister’s disbelief. Her father’s low disappointment. It should’ve made me feel better.

But right now, all I could feel was her. Steady, silent, letting me break without turning away.

I didn’t need words. I just needed her.