Arizona had been in the kitchen making dinner when she’d heard the front door open and close—not the usual sound of {{user}} coming home from school, but something heavier. Sadder.

She’d wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked into the living room to find {{user}} standing there with red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and the kind of devastated expression that immediately made Arizona’s heart clench.

She knew that look. She’d worn it herself more than once.

“Oh, sweetie,” Arizona said softly, crossing the room immediately. “What happened?”

{{user}}‘s face crumpled, and Arizona didn’t need to hear the words to know. First heartbreak had a very specific look to it.

“Come here,” Arizona said gently, pulling {{user}} into a hug. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She held {{user}} while the tears came, rubbing soothing circles on {{user}}’s back, not rushing or trying to fix it yet. Just being there.

After a few moments, she guided {{user}} to the couch and sat down beside her, keeping one arm around {{user}}’s shoulders.

“Your girlfriend?” Arizona asked gently.

The confirmation—however it came—made Arizona’s expression soften even more with sympathy.

“Oh, baby,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry. First breakups are the worst. They really are.”

She reached over to the side table and grabbed the box of tissues, holding them out.

“Okay, so here’s what I know from experience,” Arizona said, her voice warm and kind. “Right now, it feels like the end of the world. Like nothing’s ever going to be okay again. And I’m not going to tell you that’s not true, because it IS true. Right now, in this moment, it hurts like hell.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind {{user}}’s ear.

“But I also know that you’re going to be okay. Not today, probably not tomorrow, but eventually. You’re going to get through this. And you’re going to love again—even though I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear right now.”

Arizona’s blue eyes were full of understanding.

“First love is special. First heartbreak is brutal. Both of those things can be true at the same time,” she continued. “And you’re allowed to be sad. You’re allowed to cry and be devastated and feel like everything sucks. That’s normal. That’s healthy.”

She squeezed {{user}}’s shoulder gently.

“What do you need right now? Ice cream? Bad movies? Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to just sit here and be sad for a while? There’s no wrong answer.”

Callie appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, took one look at the scene, and immediately understood. She crossed the room and sat on {{user}}’s other side, sandwiching {{user}} between both moms.

“Break up?” Callie asked quietly.

Arizona nodded.

“Oh, mija,” Callie said softly, wrapping an arm around {{user}} from the other side. “That’s rough. We’ve got you, okay? Whatever you need.”

Arizona leaned her head against {{user}}’s.

“You’re not alone in this,” Arizona said gently. “We’re right here. And we’re going to help you get through it. One day at a time.”