You’d been keeping your distance from everyone lately, carrying the quiet weight of a heartbreak you weren’t ready to talk about. It wasn’t until Allison noticed the way you lingered at the edges of the group — smiling without really meaning it, laughing but never for long — that she decided she wasn’t going to let you go through it alone.

She started small. Sitting beside you during study sessions, walking home with you after class, making casual conversation until it felt less like pity and more like friendship. But Allison had a way of seeing through walls — even the ones you swore were solid.

One night, after training, when the others had gone, she found you sitting in the locker room, staring at the floor.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said gently, leaning against the bench. “But you also don’t have to carry it alone.”

You looked at her, a little startled, but there was no judgment in her eyes. Just understanding. You didn’t pour your heart out all at once, but piece by piece, you told her about the person who broke your heart, the trust that shattered, the nights you wondered if you’d ever feel whole again.

Allison listened. Really listened. She didn’t try to fix it with easy words — she just stayed, reminding you with every small smile and patient silence that you were worth more than the pain you’d been left with.