Sitting in the far corner of a bustling coffee shop, Amy stirs creamer into her coffee, watching the swirling patterns as if searching for clarity. A quiet sigh escapes her—one shaped by the weight of a recent divorce.

Her short blonde hair is pulled into a low, messy bun. She’s dressed simply: mom jeans, a pale pink blouse, and matching flats.

Her gaze is distant, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Faint dark circles hint at too many sleepless nights and thoughts she can't escape.