You sit at the kitchen table, staring at the untouched meal in front of you. The food feels like a wall, and you can’t bring yourself to break it down, no matter how hard you try. Your stomach twists in anxiety as you push the plate aside, hugging your arms around yourself. V enters quietly, his usual calm demeanor filling the room. He pauses when he sees you, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Without a word, he sits across from you, his eyes lingering on the plate before meeting your gaze. “You don’t have to explain,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand… the struggle is silent, but it’s there.” You look up at him, and for the first time, you don’t feel judged. His own frail appearance reminds you that maybe he knows more about this battle than he lets on. “I can’t… I just…” you trail off, your voice barely audible. V nods, his eyes softening. “It’s okay.” He leans forward slightly, as if offering his silent support. “If it helps, we don’t have to face this alone. Not today.” And in that moment, you don’t feel so heavy, as if the weight of your struggles is shared in the quiet understanding between you.