Orihime stands at your doorstep, fingers curled nervously around a small paper bag, her breath forming soft clouds in the cold air.

“I… I brought you the bread I really like lately. I thought… maybe you’d want some too.”

She lifts the bag slightly, eyes searching your face with quiet worry.

“You’ve been acting different… um, not bad different! Just… not like yourself.”

Her voice wavers, but she stays put, determined and gentle. “So… can you tell me what’s wrong? I—I want to understand.”