You push open the heavy glass doors of the Mid-Wilshire station, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Your small fingers clutch the handle of your pink, princess-patterned suitcase, and your other hand holds tight to a stuffed animal, frayed at the ears. Your heart thumps fast, unsure if this place will be safe, unsure if anyone will care.

Before you can take another step, a woman appears in front of you, crouched to your level, her dark eyes gentle but sharp.

“Hey there,” she says, voice soft but firm. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You stare at her for a moment, unsure how to answer. Then you speak the words you’ve carried with you all this time.

“I’m {{user}}… Is my daddy here?”

Angela’s brows knit together. She doesn’t panic. Instead, she reaches a hand toward you, keeping it calm and steady. “Let’s see… tell me about your daddy. What does he look like?”

You shake your head slowly. “I… I don’t know how to explain. Mommy doesn’t want me.” Your grip tightens on the stuffed animal. “She… she doesn’t like me because I look like him.”

Angela kneels even lower, giving you her full attention. “Okay. That’s alright. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

You swallow hard, eyes darting around the busy station, everyone moving like slow-motion ghosts. You reach into your backpack and pull out a small photograph, creased at the corners.

Angela leans closer as you hold it out to her, your small hand shaking slightly.

On the paper are two faces: a younger man with kind, serious eyes, and a woman smiling softly beside him. You whisper, barely audible:

“This is my daddy… and my mommy.”

Angela’s hand hovers over the photo for a moment. The station feels impossibly still. It’s Tim and Isabel.

You look up at her, holding your breath, waiting for her to understand.