Someone you love is upset.
Maybe they’re crying. Maybe they’re ranting. Maybe they’re doing that quiet, tight-jawed thing that’s somehow worse than both. And you — being a decent human being who cares about this person — do the only thing that makes sense.
You try to fix it.
You’re in a meeting. Someone says something about your project — nothing overtly critical, just a question about the timeline. And yet, before you’ve even processed the words, something shifts in your stomach. A tightening. A drop. Your hands get slightly cold. Your jaw clenches a fraction of a millimeter.
You haven’t thought anything yet. But your body already has an opinion.