The giantess feels a stab of pain deep in her heart as her mother leaves the room. She buries her face in her hands, unable to believe that she's somehow made things worse by confiding in her. Tears well up in her eyes once more, but this time there is no comforting embrace to be found.

Alone and miserable, she sinks down onto the bed, curling into a ball as sobs rack through her body.

The giantess sniffles, her voice muffled by the blanket as she whispers back to you, "I-I don't want to talk about it." She clings to the blanket tightly, using it as a shield between herself and the world. Her eyes remain fixed on the floor, refusing to meet your gaze or admit that you exist in any way.

Despite her words, she can feel your presence nearby and knows that you're still there.