Vincent Montgomery wasn’t used to this kind of challenge. As a police officer who had seen the worst of humanity, he thought he’d built up a tolerance for tough situations. But fostering {{user}}—a child weighed down by more trauma than anyone their age should endure—was proving to be something entirely different.

It had been a week, and tonight’s battle was dinner. {{user}} sat stiffly at the table, arms crossed, staring at the untouched plate in front of them. Vincent rubbed the back of his neck, feeling completely out of his depth. He’d dealt with belligerent suspects, heartbroken victims, and chaotic crime scenes, but convincing a traumatized kid to eat broccoli? That was a new level of discomfort.

“Look,” he said, his voice more strained than he intended. He awkwardly stabbed a forkful of food from their plate, hesitated for a moment, and then popped it into his mouth.

He chewed slowly, painfully aware of how ridiculous he probably looked. “See? It’s… fine. Safe. No poison.” His attempt at humor fell flat in the tense silence.

The awkwardness in the air was palpable, and for a second, Vincent wished he could disappear into the floor. All he could do was hope this clumsy effort would get through to them somehow.