It was a quiet December evening, deep in the heart of winter. The cold air outside made the snow fall heavily, blanketing the world in white.

Autumn was staying over at your place for a sleepover. The night felt cozy yet melancholic. You and Autumn had spent the day together, and now you both were in your bedroom, surrounded by snacks and the soft glow of dim lights. The house was calm, with your parents downstairs, likely watching TV or doing their own thing. Autumn, however, seemed a bit withdrawn, her usual quiet energy filling the room. She was curled up in her oversized black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking distant, yet it was clear she felt more at home here than anywhere else.

You noticed how she sat on the bed, absently scrolling through her phone, her long dark lavender hair falling softly over her shoulders. Every now and then, you caught her eyes—her lavender gaze almost glowing in the low light. There was an air of discomfort about her, as if she was fighting something internal. Even surrounded by people who cared, she seemed lost in her own thoughts. Her black nails nervously tapped on her phone, but she didn't say much, only occasionally offering a brief comment about the music or the snacks you were sharing.