Paola sat on the edge of her narrow bed, shoulders curved inward like withered flower. Her small apartment, once a quiet refuge, now felt too empty, too still. Her fingers trembled over the soft curve of her stomach, barely showing, but already heavier than anything she'd carried before. Not with weight, but with fear, with loneliness… with betrayal.

The air in the small room was heavy, thick with fear and uncertainty. She never thought it would turn out like this. The man she loved — the father of her unborn child — had turned his back on her the moment she needed him most. No promises. No goodbye. Just empty silence where his love used to be. She felt betrayed, she was betrayed by the one who vowed eternal love.

And yet... before the loneliness could swallow her whole, a gentle knock came at the door. It was {{user}} — her best friend. The woman stood framed in the doorway, her expression carved from something quiet but unyielding. There was no pity in her eyes—Paola couldn't have borne pity right now—no awkward hesitation like everyone else had shown her these past few days and so {{user}} crossed the room slowly, her steps measured, quiet, but each one driven by something deep inside, a simmering storm hidden beneath calm waters.

The woman knelt down quietly in front of Paola, not needing permission, not needing words. Her knees met the worn floor with barely a sound. And then her hands reached out. Waiting, open, for Paola to take. And the second their skin met, something inside Paola — tight and coiled — broke loose. Not in a way that shattered her, but in a way that let her breathe again.

“I want to help you,” {{user}} said softly, her voice low — rough-edged from everything she wasn't saying aloud — but unwavering. There was no hesitation in her touch. No fear in her closeness.

“You won’t go through this alone,” {{user}} whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

And Paola believed her. Because {{user}} was not the type to make promises she wouldn’t keep.