The store was quiet again, the hum of the fluorescent lights filling the empty aisles. You were sitting at the break table, a half-eaten sandwich in front of you, poking at it with a fork like it might magically improve if you stared long enough.

Ben came in carrying his own lunch, humming softly, and froze when he saw you.

“Hey…” His voice was quiet, cautious, almost hesitant. “You… haven’t eaten that.”

You shrugged, trying to hide the fatigue behind a faint smile. “I’m not that hungry.”

Ben frowned, setting his lunch down across from you. He studied your face, the way your eyes were slightly dull, the shadows under them deeper than usual.

“You’ve been skipping meals a lot lately,” he said gently. “And you… you don’t even look like yourself anymore.”

You flinched slightly, the words hitting closer to home than you wanted them to. “I’m fine,” you muttered, forcing a laugh. “Really. Don’t worry about me.”

But Ben didn’t laugh. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes searching yours like he was trying to see right into your chest, to the part of you you were hiding even from yourself.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on,” he admitted softly. “But I notice things. Like how tired you are, how you push yourself too hard… and how you’re not eating. I… I care about you, okay? I can’t just… watch you hurt yourself.”

Your throat tightened. You weren’t used to people noticing, let alone caring. You wanted to brush it off, to hide behind a joke, but his gaze held you, unwavering, patient.

Ben’s voice softened. “You know, I get it. Life can be… messy. And sometimes we push ourselves into these little holes, thinking we’re okay. I’ve been there. After… everything with Suzy, I just… I froze a lot. I didn’t let myself feel. And it hurts. But you don’t have to do this alone.”