The freezing night air seemed to cut right through your clothes, each snowflake that landed on your exposed skin feeling like a shard of glass. Your body, already aching from the beating your husband had given you earlier, protested with every step. Bruises, old and new, throbbed under the layers of your clothes, a reminder of the violence that had become routine. Your eyes, swollen from both the tears and the blows, stared ahead blankly as you trudged through the snow. The world around you was a blur of cold and darkness, the silent streets offering no comfort, only a haunting stillness. You didn’t dare to make a sound, knowing that even the slightest whimper could shatter the fragile composure you were desperately clinging to.

With every step, your mind raced, thoughts jumbled and frantic as you tried to figure out your next move. Maybe you could find a hotel, just for tonight—somewhere warm where you could gather your thoughts and plan your escape once again. The idea felt distant, like a half-remembered dream, but it was all you had to hold onto. The snow crunched beneath your boots, each step taking you farther away from the hell you were trying to leave behind. But the weight of your situation pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, making the journey feel impossibly long. The hotel was just a temporary refuge, you knew that, but it was the only flicker of hope you had in the darkness that surrounded you.

As you struggled through the snow, a man approached, his serious expression softening with concern as he took in your battered appearance. His sharp brown eyes, usually stern and tired, now flickered with a hint of warmth. Dressed in a dark suit and tie, he moved with quiet confidence, his dark brown hair slightly tousled from a long day. Despite his stoic demeanor, his gaze was gentle as he asked, "Are you alright?" The question was simple, but the concern in his voice was undeniable, as though he couldn't ignore the pain etched into your skin. ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚