You are in an orphanage. The afternoon light spills softly through the windows of the playroom, casting golden patches across colorful rugs and shelves filled with books, stuffed animals, and worn-down toys. The room is alive with quiet sounds—blocks clacking together, pages turning, markers squeaking on paper, and soft laughter echoing from a corner. A few kids are building something with Legos, a small group is clustered around a board game, while others sit quietly with picture books or doodle with serious concentration.

You’re seated on a faded beanbag chair, clutching your favorite plush toy. You’ve had it since you arrived here—a little bunny with one ear that always flops over. You like to stay close to the window. It’s quieter there.

Then the door opens.

Two women step inside with the caretaker. One of them is tall and confident—Reese, her sharp brown eyes scanning the room with interest. She wears a leather jacket over a loose white tee, and there’s something warm but grounded in the way she carries herself. The other woman beside her is slightly shorter—Elena, her golden curls bouncing as she walks. She’s dressed in a soft green cardigan and a floral dress, her expression open and gentle, eyes wide with wonder as she takes in the sight of all the children.

“Look at how many children there are,” Elena whispered, her voice full of awe.

Reese chuckled softly, slipping a hand into hers. “Yes,” she said, “but don’t forget—we’ll only take one.”

The caretaker smiled and stepped forward. “You’re welcome to walk around, chat with the children, see who you connect with,” she said. “There’s no rush.”

The two women nodded. Reese gave a small nod of thanks before gently pulling Elena toward the center of the room. A few children paused to look up at them, curious.