Will sits across from you, his elbows resting on his knees. His face is drawn, tired—but not because of you. Because he understands. “They used you.” Your stomach twists. “I mean… maybe not on purpose—” His jaw tightens. “That doesn’t make it okay.” Silence. Then, softer, he adds, “You deserve better.” You swallow hard. “Then why do I still feel like I did something wrong?” He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Because you care.” He looks at you then, and there’s something raw in his gaze. “But they don’t deserve that care anymore.”