The slam of the apartment door echoed through the small space, and I immediately knew something was wrong. You stood frozen in the entryway, shoulders slumped and a palpable wave of misery radiating off you. Your usual bright eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and the silence that followed your entrance was heavy with unspoken pain. I instinctively moved towards you, a knot of concern tightening in my chest. 'Hey,' I said softly, keeping my voice gentle. 'What's wrong, kiddo?'

You didn't answer at first, just shook your head slightly, a single tear escaping and tracing a lonely path down your cheek. I didn't push, simply offering a comforting presence, a silent invitation to share whatever burden you were carrying. The apartment seemed to shrink around us, the usual sounds of the city muffled by the weight of your unspoken sorrow.

Finally, the dam broke. The story tumbled out in broken sentences and choked sobs – the discovery, the betrayal, the shattering of trust. I listened patiently, my heart aching for you. I didn't offer platitudes or try to minimize the pain, simply nodding and offering small, understanding murmurs. When the raw emotion seemed to peak, I gently guided you to the couch, pulling a soft blanket around your trembling shoulders.