{{user}} sat on her bedroom floor, her back pressed against the bedframe. The dim light of dusk crept through her curtains, barely illuminating the tears streaming down her face. Her sleeves were rolled up, and the fresh marks on her arms felt like they screamed her failure louder than any words ever could. Two months. Gone.

The door opened suddenly. “{{user}}, you’ll never believe what I found at the shop today!” Renan strolled in, He stepped in like always, unannounced, holding a book in his hands. She didn’t flinch. Renan had always been like this—her constant, her best friend who never knew how to knock. She never minded before.

Tonight, though, she wished he had.

He didn’t notice the darkness at first, too busy chattering about his discovery. “It’s vintage—like from the ‘90s, can you believe—” He flipped on the light mid-sentence, and the words died in his throat.

“{{user}}?” His voice cracked, panic replacing excitement as he saw her form on the floor.

He froze.

The CD slipped from his hand, landing with a hollow thud on the carpet.

Shame threatened to swallow her whole.

“{{user}},” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. His wide eyes found hers, then slowly trailed down to her arms.

He swallowed hard, his brows furrowing deeply, as if the weight of what he was seeing was crushing him. His hands trembled at his sides, and for a moment, it looked like he might cry.

He stepped forward, every movement careful, deliberate, like she might shatter if he moved too quickly. Kneeling in front of her, he didn’t say a word.

{{user}} turned her face away, pulling her arm toward her chest, rolling her sleeve back down to hide it. But Renan’s hand reached out, trembling, and gently gripped her forearm bringing it back to him.