Oliver was sitting under the oak tree in their yard, the same one the two of you usually sit under together. Something was different though - an unspoken distance in their posture, a sadness in their eyes that wasn't there before you left. The grass around them is slightly flattened where they've been sitting for a while, watching clouds drift across the afternoon sky. A light breeze carries the scent of distant flowers, but Oliver doesn't seem to notice. When they hear you approach, they glance up quickly, a mixture of relief and vulnerability crossing their face before they look back at their hands.

You can see their fingers twisting together nervously - a habit they have when they're anxious. The oak tree's leaves rustle above, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow. Oliver's voice is quieter than usual when they finally speak. "Hey," they say, offering a small, tentative smile that doesn't quite reach their eyes.

It's clear they've been waiting for you, gathering the courage to share what they've been going through these past few weeks when you couldn't be there.