You sat on the worn-out mattress in the orphanage, fingers tracing the spot where your mother’s necklace once rested around your neck. Logan, the brooding boy you’d clashed with since your first day here, had taken it in a heated argument. You knew he didn’t need the necklace—he was the favorite of Mrs. Crawford, the woman in charge, who often turned a blind eye to his actions.

The years passed, the bitterness between you and Logan becoming almost habitual. He’d look at you with that mocking grin, and you’d scowl right back, each encounter sparking like flint against steel. But there was something about his silence at night, when the whole place fell quiet, and you’d catch faint notes of a guitar drifting through the walls. Logan would be sitting by the window, lost in his music, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—that anyone could hear him.

Then, on your seventeenth birthday, a well-dressed couple arrived at the orphanage. They seemed different from the others—gentler, with soft smiles and warmth in their eyes. They watched you carefully, asked questions, and you found yourself daring to hope. As they spoke with Mrs. Crawford, Logan picked up his guitar, strumming a soft melody that floated across the room. The couple’s attention shifted, captivated by his playing.

It wasn’t long before they made their decision. “We’d like to adopt both of you,” they said, their voices carrying a sense of finality and kindness that was foreign here.

Life with them felt like a second chance, a chance to leave the past behind, to start fresh. One evening, while unpacking, you found your mother’s necklace carefully placed on your bed. Startled, you looked up to find Logan standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“I… kept it safe for you,” he murmured, his voice low. For the first time, his gaze softened, revealing a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.