In this reflection we listen for what people are really asking. Most people don't ask the real question first. They ask the version that won't embarrass them, the one that doesn't risk sounding needy, dramatic, or too much. They ask what feels defensible, even if what they want is tenderness.
So you get questions like: do you think I'm overreacting? would you have done that? are you mad at me? They sound like requests for analysis. Often they are requests for safety.
This is one of the quiet ways connection breaks down. You answer accurately, even generously, and the other person still feels unseen. They did not need a verdict. They needed you to meet the feeling that created the question in the first place.
The question under the question is usually simple and vulnerable: do my feelings make sense to you? am I alone in this? are we okay? can you hold me without making me regret asking?
You can learn to hear it by listening to what the person is protecting. If the question is framed like a courtroom, it is often because they are afraid they will be judged. If it is framed like a test, it is often because they are afraid they will fail.
Sometimes the most helpful move is to widen the conversation. You can answer the surface question and then gently check: is this what you're really asking, or is there something else underneath?
This doesn't require mind reading. It requires curiosity. Curiosity is what makes a hard conversation feel less like combat and more like collaboration.
You can also offer a reflection instead of an answer. It sounds like you're trying to figure out whether you're allowed to feel this. It sounds like you want reassurance that you're not crazy for caring.
When people feel met, they stop escalating. A lot of conflict is a demand for contact dressed up as argument.
If you keep debating facts, the argument will repeat. Not because either of you is foolish, but because the need underneath is still hungry. You can win the logic and still lose the moment.
There is a responsibility here for the person asking, too. If you always ask sideways, you train others to respond sideways. Direct asking is a skill, and it gets easier with practice.
Try naming the real question when you can. I'm not looking for a solution right now. I just need you to tell me you understand. I need to know we're okay. I need to know you're still here with me.
When the real question enters the room, the conversation changes shape. People stop performing and start speaking.
The point is not to be perfect at this. The point is to keep returning to the same orientation: underneath the words, what is the human asking for?
That is where the closeness lives.