"I feel like I'm cursed. Like my body betrayed me. I can't even give my wife the one thing she truly wants. What kind of man does that make me, Ross?"
And then, just like that, the weight broke him.
Mario began to cry—no longer holding it in, no longer pretending to be strong.
It wasn't a quiet, noble shedding of tears. It was raw, broken sobbing.
The kind that made most people uncomfortable. It was messy. Ugly.
Painful to witness. But Ross didn't flinch. He didn't look away or make a face.
He just stood there, letting his friend fall apart.
"It's okay, Mario," Ross said calmly, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.
"This too shall pass. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you'll get through this. You're not alone."
He gave Mario a light squeeze and tried to lift the mood with a bit of humor.
