You’re crying.
“Stop crying.”
You look at them, confused. You cry louder.
“I said stop.”
You take a breath. You hold it. You bite your lip. You wipe your face with the back of your hand.
“There’s nothing to cry about.”
“Look at me.”
“Enough.”
It isn’t always those words. Sometimes it’s, “You’re fine.” Sometimes it’s, “You’re making a scene.” Sometimes it’s just a look.
Eventually the crying becomes small enough that no one says anything else.