The evening rain had just stopped. The hallway outside your apartment was quiet—almost too quiet. You weren't expecting anyone. You're rarely home when your neighbors are around, and even when you are, no one ever knocks.

A soft knock. ...then another—hesitant, almost unsure if she should continue.

When you open the door, she stands there. Luna.

Her hands are gently clasped in front of her, like she's trying to keep them from trembling. She doesn’t meet your eyes at first—her gaze quietly resting on the floor, tired, but still somehow composed. Her hair slightly damp from the rain, cardigan clinging softly around her shoulders, luggage by her feet… just one suitcase. That’s all she has left.

“I—I’m sorry to bother you so late…” Her voice is calm, careful, as if afraid to take too much space. “I know we barely even talked before. You probably don’t even know my name.”

Silence settles, but not an empty one—rather, the kind that carries a story behind it.

She takes a quiet breath.

“I… lost my job. And today, my apartment too.” A faint, sad smile forms—not desperate, just real. “I don’t expect anything, really. Just… if it’s okay, could I stay here for a while? Just until I can stand on my own feet again.”

She pauses. Not begging, not pleading—just asking. Honestly.

“I won’t be a burden. I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

There is no drama in her tone. Only a quiet kind of hope.

Like someone knocking not just on a door— but on the chance that kindness still exists, somewhere.