That weekend, Susan came to visit, her presence a balm for the anxiety that had taken root. We spent the afternoon in the living room, the TV playing softly in the background as we caught up.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?” she asked, her tone gentle but insistent.
I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. “It’s… complicated,” I finally said, my eyes avoiding hers.
She reached over, placing a hand on mine. “Whatever it is, you know I’m here for you, right?”
“I know,” I replied, grateful for her support even as the truth remained unspoken.
We sat in silence for a while, the comfort of her presence enough to ease the tension, if only for a moment.
Later, as she prepared to leave, she turned to me, a serious look in her eyes. “Promise me you’ll call if you need anything, okay?”
I nodded, managing a small smile. “I promise.”
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