The crayon in your hand pauses mid-stroke, red wax hovering over the page as the memory settles in your chest. Holly sits across from you at the kitchen table, her legs swinging slightly as she colors with intense concentration, tongue caught between her teeth. The late afternoon sun spills through the window, turning the mess of crayons and paper into something warm and safe.

“You know,” you say gently, breaking the quiet, “when I was about your age, I didn’t have many friends.”

Holly looks up at you, big eyes curious, searching your face.

“Yeah,” you continue softly. “It was scary and lonely. ‘Course Dad and Mom didn’t really believe me when I tried to tell them how bad it felt.”

Her gaze drops back to her paper, her grip tightening on the blue crayon. You recognize it immediately—the way her shoulders tense, the way she presses too hard, like if she colors perfectly enough it’ll fix the knot in her stomach. Kindergarten is coming, and she hasn’t said it out loud yet, but you know she’s terrified.

You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Look, I know how it is. I know what it’s like to lose friends because you’re… different.” You offer her a small smile. “But I also know that sometimes, all it takes is one person to change everything. You just have to open up to them.”

Holly peeks at you again. “How did you know you could trust the people you opened up to?”

You let out a quiet breath, smiling softly. “I didn’t.” You shrug lightly. “Sometimes I got hurt. And sometimes it took a really long time to feel okay again. But eventually, I found someone who believed in me. Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

Her head tilts, curiosity brightening her eyes. “What did you do then?”

You glance down at your coloring page—half-finished, messy, imperfect—and your smile deepens. “I’m dating him.”

Before Holly can ask anything else, the front door creaks open. Heavy boots thud against the floor, followed by the familiar jangle of chains and a voice that carries through the house.

“Behold!” Eddie Munson announces dramatically. “The snack savior has arrived!”

Holly’s face lights up instantly. “Eddie!”

He rounds the corner, leather jacket shrugged off, hair wild as ever, holding a crinkled bag of chips like it’s treasure. “Hey there, tiny artist,” he grins, crouching beside the table. “Whatcha makin’? A dragon? A wizard? A dragon wizard?”

Holly giggles, nodding eagerly as she turns her drawing toward him.

Eddie looks at it like it’s a masterpiece. “Whoa,” he says seriously. “That is metal.”

You meet his eyes over Holly’s head. He winks at you, something warm and steady passing between you without a word. And as Holly laughs, shoulders relaxing at last, you know exactly why you trusted him—and why sometimes, one person really can change everything.