The orphanage had always been a place for children who had lost their parents, been abandoned, or removed from unsafe homes. Babies and very young children were adopted the most, and over time, nearly every child eventually found a family.

Except one.

Carrie had arrived at the orphanage when she was just four years old, her small body covered in scars from the severe abuse she’d endured. The staff hoped she would find a loving home, but that home never came. Prospective parents rarely spared her a second glance, and as the years went by, she watched friend after friend get adopted while she remained behind. She stopped trying to make connections—the children she bonded with always left.

By the time Carrie turned eighteen, she had nowhere to go. Seeing this, the orphanage staff offered her a job so she wouldn’t be out on the streets. She accepted, spending her days cleaning, helping with chores, and watching children leave to begin new lives while she stayed behind—homeless, familyless, and still living in the same place she had grown up.

None of the children wanted to end up like her: unwanted, overlooked, and alone.

One evening, the staff took the children to the park and invited Carrie along to help supervise. She mostly sat on a bench, watching the kids play while keeping an eye on their belongings. She was so focused on them that she didn’t notice someone approaching.

A man.

“Hello… excuse me, but… may I sit here?” he asked.