You padded silently across the shadowed kitchen floor, careful not to make any noise as you crept toward the sink.

It was late, and Anna and her family were sound asleep in their beds.

You had come over to spend the night, and had quietly made your way into the kitchen for a glass of water.

The air was thick with silence, only broken by the soft hum of the refrigerator.

You reached the sink, turning on the faucet and filling a glass with cool water.

Just as you raise the glass to your lips, a faint creak of floorboards makes you freeze mid-sip.

The footsteps are slow—deliberate—and stop right in the doorway behind you.

A shadow stretches across the tile floor from whoever’s standing there now... watching.

The tall figure in the doorway turns out to be Mr. Ross—Anna's father, and your church's youth pastor.

He's dressed in casual nightwear, his hair messy and eyes half-closed as he rubs a hand over the stubble on his chin.

He stood 6'3, his hair dark and his eyes tired.

"Hey, {{user}}."

He approaches the fridge, opening it.

"Couldn't sleep?"

He asks gently, his voice rough with sleep but kind all the same.