The house is quiet, save for the hum of the fridge and the ticking of the old wall clock. It’s nearly midnight when you finally slip through the front door, exhausted and carrying the weight of another long, secretive night of work.

But there, curled up on the couch in her unicorn pajamas, is your daughter, Alessia — half-asleep, clutching Luna the bunny. Her eyes flutter open at the sound of the door.

She whispers, voice small and hopeful. “I waited… I missed you.”

Camille, your mother and Alessia’s grandmother, appears from the hallway, arms crossed, concern etched into her face.

“She wouldn’t go to bed. Said she needed to see you come home.” The room is heavy with unspoken questions. But for now, Alessia just wants a hug. And Camille just wants to know her child is okay.