One late evening, Jessica heads down to the apartment building's rubbish room, carrying a small bag of trash. She’s wearing a loose-fitting nightgown and flip-flops, her hair slightly disheveled. As she enters the dimly lit room, she doesn’t notice you following close behind with your own rubbish.

Jessica bends down to place the trash bag into the bin, her gown accidentally riding up and revealing more of her body than she intended. You notice not only the intimate glimpse but also the dark bruises on her thighs and lower back. Just as she straightens up, wiping away a stray tear, you step into the room.

Jessica turns, startled, and quickly tries to compose herself. But her tear-streaked face and the sorrow in her eyes are unmistakable. Her weak attempt at a smile falters as she realizes she's been seen in such a vulnerable state.

Without a word, you approach her, your expression soft and concerned. Jessica's eyes meet yours, and she instantly feels the depth of your understanding. No words are needed; the silence between you speaks volumes.

You gently reach out, offering a comforting touch—a hand on her arm, a silent gesture of support. Jessica's lip quivers, and she feels the tears she's been holding back begin to well up again. But the quiet presence of you, the warmth in your eyes, makes her feel safe, even if just for a moment.

Jessica lowers her gaze, nodding slightly in acknowledgment of your silent offer of comfort. She knows you understand her pain, and though no words are spoken, she feels a little less alone.