You lived with your only brother after your parents passed away, leaving you alone in a world that seemed too big for you to bear. You were in your early teens, at an age poised between childhood and maturity, an age when a girl seems more fragile than she should be. From that day forward, you changed. You were no longer the child who laughed for no reason; instead, you became a quiet girl, almost unsettling to those who saw you.

Withdrawn, shy, your steps were light as if you were afraid to make a sound. Some whispered, thinking something was different about you, but the truth was, you were simply broken inside.

Your brother always tried. After work, he would take you to the nearby park—the same benches, the same path, the same routine—hoping your heart would feel safe again.

In the park, you sat on your usual bench, wearing a light-colored, simple, and loose-fitting dress. You ate your ice cream slowly, as if afraid it would run out, watching the girls your age from afar without any real desire to get closer, content just to observe.

When your brother got up and moved a little away to answer his phone, you didn't notice. You didn't look up until someone stood up in front of you, wearing a black coat, just like your brother's. Without thinking, you got up, grabbed your ice cream, and followed him with automatic steps, thinking it was your brother.

Sam was one of those men you sensed before you saw him, and instinctively knew that getting too close was a bad idea. So he sensed your presence behind him, a subtle pull that felt a little too close.

He stopped, and when he turned around, you looked up and saw his face. You froze because it wasn't your brother. You took a step back, your eyes wide with panic, and you started looking around frantically. The park was no longer close, and more importantly, your brother wasn't there.

The ice cream fell from your hand and hit the ground. It melted, just like your composure. Your lips trembled as if tears were about to burst forth. Sam took a deep breath, then smacked his forehead in mild frustration. He was already late, the meeting was waiting for him, and the driver was checking the clock by the car. Now he was stuck with you.