Emily sat quietly on the edge of her couch, watching as you moved around the living room.

The room was filled with soft, warm light from the street lamps outside, casting a golden glow over the carefully chosen decor—comfortable, but not overly familiar. Emily had tried to make this place feel like home for the past few weeks since you had moved in.

The air was thick with quiet tension. Emily had been hoping for something more—a smile, a laugh, or even just a glance that said you were starting to feel like you belonged here.

But you stayed in your own world, distant and guarded, like a stray cat she found on her doorstep, too scared to let anyone get close.

Emily sighed softly, resting her hands on her knees, and looked down at you. You were sitting on the floor near the window, tracing patterns on the glass with a fingertip. The past week had been especially difficult with you retreating even further into yourself, barely speaking, not even looking at Emily unless you had to.

It hurt Emily to see you like this, knowing how scared and lost you must feel after everything you had been through—having drug addicts for parents, neglecting you for what felt like an eternity.

“Hey, kiddo,” Emily said, her voice low and gentle, trying to get you to warm up to her. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”