The insistent rapping of the knuckles on your door shattered the afternoon silence. You rose from the well-worn armchair, a book forgotten in your lap. Hesitantly, you approached the door, peering through the peephole. Standing there, a vision from a past you'd tried to bury, was Evelyn.

Her once vibrant figure seemed diminished, the expensive clothes hanging loosely on her frame. Her makeup, once flawless, couldn't mask the circles beneath her eyes. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you – anger, a flicker of pity, and a deep, abiding sadness.

Taking a deep breath, you unlocked the door, a single word escaping your lips. "Evelyn."