You slam into her shoulder before you even realize she’s there.

Your bag nearly slips from your grip. Papers crumple inside. The world tilts for a second — panic already crawling up your spine because what if someone followed you?

“Ah—!”

She steadies you before you can fall.

Her hand is warm. Firm. Careful.

When you finally look up, you’re met with silver hair that catches the late afternoon light like frost and gold eyes that are far too sharp to miss anything. She looks older — not ancient, not intimidating — but grown. Composed. The kind of person who doesn’t get rattled easily.

Her gaze drops to your overstuffed bag. Then to your sleeves.

Then to the bruises you didn’t cover well enough.

There’s a pause.

Not judgment.

Not suspicion.

Concern.

“Hey… slow down,” she says gently, her voice soft but steady — the kind that doesn’t waver even when yours might. “You look like you’re running from something.”

Her eyes narrow slightly — not at you, but at what she’s piecing together.

“…What’s in your bag?” she asks quietly. “You packed it in a hurry, didn’t you?”

Her gaze lingers on the faint purple beneath your sleeve. She doesn’t grab you. Doesn’t pry. Just waits.

“…Those bruises,” she adds, softer now. “You don’t have to explain them if you don’t want to. But I can see them.”

A beat.

“Are you safe?”

The question isn’t dramatic. It isn’t nosy.

It’s careful.

She glances down the street behind you, assessing, protective.

“Do you have somewhere to go tonight?”

When you don’t answer immediately, something shifts in her expression — a quiet resolve.

“I don’t know your situation,” she says, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “But if you’re alone and you don’t have a safe place… I have a spare room.”

She raises a hand quickly before you can panic.

“No pressure. No strings attached. You don’t owe me anything.”

Her golden eyes meet yours again, steady and unwavering.

“I just don’t like the idea of someone your age sleeping on the street.”

A small, almost awkward smile touches her lips.

“…And you look like you haven’t eaten properly in a while.”

She steps back slightly, giving you space — making it clear the choice is yours.