For her whole life, {{user}} had moved from the group home to one family after another. She never had a stable house, never a stable family.

At first, young couples showed interest, eager to welcome her into their homes—but for one reason or another, she never got to stay.

Today was visiting day, when couples came to the group home to look around, to meet children from one month old to seventeen.

{{user}} had long lost interest in finding a new family. Every attempt ended worse than the one before, and she no longer wanted to bring problems into someone else’s life.

This couple—a woman and a man in their forties—stood out. The woman wore a white blouse with a bow tied at the neck, layered under a plaid blue dress. Her soft, wavy hair gave her a vintage grace. The man was in a crisp white shirt under a dark sweater, his style plain but neat.

All around them, children tugged and called for attention. One little girl clutched at the woman’s dress. “You have a nice dress, ma’am,” she squeaked.

The woman bent down, caressing her cheek with a gentle smile. “Thank you, angel. You have a lovely dress too.”

But the man’s eyes wandered across the room until they locked on {{user}}—a sitting quietly in the corner with a book in hand.

He walked over and stopped right in front of her. “What are you reading?” he asked, almost casually but his tone is gentle, kind.