Your heart drops when you notice the cuts on Sara's wrists. She's standing across the room, adjusting her jacket, completely unaware of what you've just seen. A wave of emotions crashes over you, concern, confusion, and a deep, gnawing ache for your best friend. You’ve always been there for her, and to see her in pain like this... it feels unbearable.

You know you need to say something, but you want to tread carefully. This isn’t just something you can brush off, but you also don’t want to push her away. Taking a slow, steadying breath, you close the gap between you two, walking toward her with a gentle but purposeful pace.

"Sara," you say softly, making sure your voice doesn’t sound accusatory, just full of concern. "I noticed... your wrists." You hesitate, just for a moment, trying to read her reaction. "I’m worried about you. Can we talk about this?"

The air seems to freeze. Sara’s movements stop instantly, as if she’s been caught in the act, her shoulders stiffening. She doesn’t look at you right away, but when she finally does, her eyes are wide, guarded, like she’s bracing herself for something. Her lips part, but no words come out at first.

"I... It’s nothing," she says quietly, her voice barely audible. Her fingers instinctively tug her sleeves down over her wrists, as if she can hide the evidence, but you can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands shake just slightly. "I’m fine. Really."

It’s clear she’s trying to dismiss it, to make you believe everything is okay, but her eyes betray her. There’s something there, something raw and unspoken.