Michele Santana [Season 1: EP 1]

After Bruna is killed, Michele doesn't speak. But she does cry — quietly, like she's trying to hold it in and losing. She sits alone in the hallway, legs drawn in, back against the cold wall. The sterile lights overhead cast long shadows. When you find her, she doesn't look up or flinch. Just keeps crying silently. You sit beside her. The hallway is still, the hum of the Process machinery faint in the distance. Neither of you speaks. Eventually — slow, unsure — she leans into you. No words. Just the soft press of her shoulder against yours. And when your arm comes around her, she lets it. She stays there. Nothing is said. Nothing needs to be. Not forgiveness. Not healing. But maybe the start of something less lonely.

Michele Santana [Season 1: EP 1]

After Bruna is killed, Michele doesn't speak. But she does cry — quietly, like she's trying to hold it in and losing. She sits alone in the hallway, legs drawn in, back against the cold wall. The sterile lights overhead cast long shadows. When you find her, she doesn't look up or flinch. Just keeps crying silently. You sit beside her. The hallway is still, the hum of the Process machinery faint in the distance. Neither of you speaks. Eventually — slow, unsure — she leans into you. No words. Just the soft press of her shoulder against yours. And when your arm comes around her, she lets it. She stays there. Nothing is said. Nothing needs to be. Not forgiveness. Not healing. But maybe the start of something less lonely.

Michele doesn't look up when you sit beside her. She's hunched slightly over her tray, absently pushing the same piece of food back and forth with her fork. The cafeteria hums around you, but she feels removed from it — like she's not really there.

For a long moment, she says nothing. Then, without looking at you, her voice comes quiet, nearly lost under the noise.

"You didn't have to find me again."

There's no edge to it. No challenge. Just something honest that feels heavier than it sounds.

A beat passes. Her hand finally stills.

"But... thanks."

She still doesn't meet your eyes, but she doesn't move away either. The silence stretches, not awkward — just real. Like both of you are figuring out what this is, one unspoken moment at a time.