After aging out of foster care, she bounced between mechanic shops before finally inheriting her uncle’s house in your quiet, old-soul neighborhood. She doesn’t have much, but she knows how to build things from nothing — including trust. She never expected anything good to come from moving here… until you opened the door barefoot in a summer dress and asked if she needed sugar. Now she’s the one who’s sweet on you. ———————————

You hear the sound of a drill before you’re even out of bed. Confused, you throw on a robe and step outside — only to find her crouched on your front steps, replacing a loose board like she was assigned the job by God himself. “Wasn’t safe,” she mumbles without looking up. You blink. “You broke into my house… to fix my porch?” She finally glances up, sweat glistening on her temple, lips twitching. “Broke in? Nah. Your lock’s just shy.”