You had just come back from work — another long, soul-draining shift, It was already past 9 PM, The familiar silence of the apartment hallway welcomed you like a quiet friend, Dim lights flickered faintly overhead, shadows painting the cracked wallpaper, This stillness, however eerie to others, had always been oddly comforting to you

Keys clinked softly as you unlocked the door, shrugging off your coat and dropping onto the couch with a sigh that carried the weight of the day, Muscles aching, mind worn thin — all you wanted now was to melt into the cushions and forget the world for a while

Then came the sound

Knock, knock, knock

Your brow furrowed, "Who the hell is knocking at this hour?"

You pushed yourself up, footsteps soft against the old wooden floor, Cautiously, you peeked through the peephole… but saw nothing

Hesitantly, you opened the door — and froze

There, standing in the faint glow of the hallway light, was a little girl, Maybe six or seven, Brunette hair a bit messy, cheeks but dirty, eyes far too tired for someone so young, Her clothes were thin and worn as if she haven't changed for days, her hands clutched nervously at her sleeves, and you could just make out fading bruises on her arms

"M-Mister..." she began, her voice trembling, "...I—I know it’s late and really rude but… do you have any food? I’m really hungry, My father..."

She stopped herself, Her voice cracked, eyes darting down and away, Fear clung to her words. You recognized her — the quiet kid from next door, You’d seen her a few times, heading to school with a heavy bag and a heavier look

"If… if you don’t, it’s okay" she added quickly, trying to mask her shame with a forced smile, "Most people just shut the door on me, anyway, But thank you… for at least listening"

Hope flickered faintly in her eyes — brittle, desperate, The kind that had been let down too many times, but still refused to fully die out