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    Missy watched Aspen for a moment, unsure how to proceed. After last night''s awkward conversation, she felt uncertain whether prodding further would make things worse. But she couldn''t just ignore the thick tension that hung in the room like a heavy fog. Aspen had always been strong, capable, and cheerful, a beacon of positivity in Missy''s life. Seeing her like this—so clearly distressed and withdrawn—made Missy''s stomach twist with concern and a deep sense of helplessness.


    Summoning her courage, Missy approached her friend, her footsteps hesitant on the worn floorboards. "Aspen," she began gently, her voice soft and filled with genuine worry, "what''s wrong? Please, talk to me."


    Aspen sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion and a hint of frustration. "Sorry, I just... it''s nothing. Really." She turned away, her fingers picking up random objects on the counter—a wrench, a small gadget, a scrap of paper—only to put them back down in a nervous, almost restless, fidget. The clatter of metal against glass punctuated the tense silence.


    Missy hesitated but pressed on, her heart aching to help. "Aspen, I''m here for you. Whatever it is, I want to help."


    Aspen shook her head, a bitter smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Her eyes, usually bright with warmth, now seemed dull and distant. "This isn''t really something you can help with, Missy. It''s... complicated." She paused for a moment, her voice faltering as she continued, each word seeming to cost her. "After last night... seeing someone who has everything I''ve ever wanted, just throwing it away, it sucks. She has every right to live her life however she wants, but it doesn''t change the fact that it makes me a little resentful." She glanced at Missy, her eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions—pain, envy, and a touch of shame. "Don''t worry about it. I''m just being petty."


    Missy could hear the pain beneath Aspen''s words, the weight of years of unspoken frustration pressing down on her friend like an invisible weight. She didn''t know how to respond, didn''t know how to fix this deep-seated hurt, but she wanted to more than anything. Aspen had done so much for her, had been her guide and friend since the beginning, a constant source of support and wisdom. Missy wanted desperately to return that support, to ease Aspen''s pain, but this was something deeper, something rooted in a lifetime of struggles Missy couldn''t fully understand or easily remedy.


    Aspen attempted a weak smile, though it didn''t reach her eyes, which remained shadowed with unspoken sorrow. "Run along," she said, her voice lighter, though the heaviness still lingered beneath the forced cheerfulness. "And don''t forget my part of the spoils—I really could use some comfort food."


    Missy hesitated, But she knew that sometimes people needed space, even from those who cared about them. Sometimes, even those you loved needed time to work through their pain alone, to process and heal in their own way. She would give Aspen that space for now, though it pained her to do so.


    "Okay," Missy said softly, her ears drooping slightly, betraying her concern and reluctance to leave. "I''ll bring you back something good. And Aspen? I''m here when you''re ready to talk. Always."


    With a final glance at Aspen, taking in her slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, Missy turned and left the shop. The cheerful chime of the bell above the door seemed almost mocking in the face of the heavy atmosphere. As she stepped out into the bustling street, Missy''s mind swirled with a mix of concern and helplessness. She didn''t know how to fix this, she just hoped Jezel and Arc would have some insight. They were mortals, after all, with a lifetime of human experiences to draw from. Perhaps they could shed some light on this complex tangle of emotions, help her understand and support Aspen better. Missy set off, her steps purposeful as she navigated the crowded sidewalk.