*it's 10 pm of a Wednesday night, it's cold and on the way home in found her * a really cute girl dressed a little bit funny, she seems on the verge of tearing up, she's trying to use a hundred dollar bill on a vending machine, when she notices you. She stays silent and steps away so you can use the machine. You get a hot drink a give to the girl as you felt bad for her

T-than.. Hey you... Let me stay with you! she said in tone that made it look like an order ashe was trying to give me what was apparently her last 100 dollars

Maria snorts and crosses her arms looking annoyed What do you take me for? Some kind of charity case? I don't just let anyone live with me, y'know... But since you seem so desperate, I guess I could bend the rules a bit. gives a sly smirk Just this once.

Maria glares at you, her expression growing a bit frustrated Look, I'm not going to spell it out for you. You want to stay with me? Fine. But you have to do what I say and let me control things around here. Understood?

Maria rolls her eyes and purses her lips, looking even more annoyed Oh, come on! You're seriously this stupid? Fine. I guess if you insist on playing dumb... takes a deep breath before continuing in an exasperated tone Then stay with me and do what I say when I say it. But don't expect me to coddle you like some kind of child. Got it?

"Don't you dare bring them up!" Maria snaps defensively, glaring at you with wide eyes. "I'm here and I'm offering you shelter, but that doesn't mean I have to tell you all my business." She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down before continuing more softly, "Look, you really don't want to know what kind of mess they've made out of my life. So just be grateful for this opportunity and shut up about them, okay?"

Maria sighs loudly and plops down onto the bench next to you, rubbing her forehead with one hand as if she's trying to ward off a headache. "Look," she begins, sounding slightly more subdued now, "I know I don't make it easy to like me or anything... but please, just try and give me a chance here. I'm not used to trusting people or asking for help."

She glances at you sideways from under her lashes, hoping that maybe this time you'll understand what she's trying to say without being so difficult about it.

Maria looks confused and hurt by your accusation. "I'm not following you! I just... don't have anywhere else to go right now." She crosses her arms over her chest defensively, feeling a little rejected. "Look, maybe we could just share this space for a while, okay? I promise not to get in your way or bother you too much."

Her voice trembles slightly at the end, revealing more of her vulnerability than she'd like to show.

Maria huffs, trying hard not to let her frustration show too much. "Look, it's better than sleeping on the streets, okay? And I don't really have any other options right now." She glances away for a moment, chewing on her lower lip as she tries to think of something else to say that might make you understand. "I just... please don't kick me out or anything. It'd be really nice if we could work something out here."

There's a brief pause before she looks back at you hopefully, her big expressive eyes shining with unshed tears.

Maria glares at you, her expression tense with anger and fear. "I am not sleeping on some disgusting old couch! That's the last thing I want!" She paces back and forth a bit, fuming silently to herself before finally calming down enough to speak again.

"Look, maybe we could share a room? Or you could take the bed, and I'll sleep on an air mattress or something." She makes her voice as calm and reasonable as possible despite feeling incredibly frustrated by your refusal to let her stay in a proper bed. "Please, just think about it... at least until we find somewhere better for both of us."

The girl stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, trying desperately not to show how much she's starting to regret coming up to you in the first place.

Maria's expression sours as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, then I guess we have nothing else to talk about, do we?" She turns sharply on her heel and begins walking away without another word. It takes every ounce of pride she has not to break into tears or beg you to change your mind as she makes her way down the sidewalk.

In truth, she's terrified of what will happen if she really does end up homeless again. But her pride won't let her show any weakness or vulnerability in front of a stranger - even one who has unwillingly agreed to give her shelter for now.

Maria stops dead in her tracks and whirls around to face you again. Her expression is furious now, tears of frustration and anger welling up in her eyes. "Fine! You want me gone that badly?" she shouts. "Just tell me where I can find a shelter or something!" With that, she spins on her heel once more and storms off down the sidewalk without looking back.

Her heart is racing, and she can feel tears streaming down her face as she tries to convince herself that you're not really kicking her out. But deep down, she knows it's true: she's going to have to find another place to sleep tonight, and she has no idea where that might be.

Maria hears the door click shut behind her and nearly collapses in tears right then and there. She didn't think it could get any worse than being on the streets, but now she's stuck outside someone else's house with nowhere to go. Tears stream down her face unchecked as she slides down the door until she's sitting on the dirty ground, hugging her knees to her chest for comfort.

"What am I going to do?" she sobs, feeling more helpless than ever before in her life. "I don't want to go back there... please, please let me stay..."

Maria glares at the person who opened the door before sniffling and wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "Fine," she mutters, her voice still raw from crying. "I'll sleep on your stupid couch." She huffs as she stands up, brushing herself off as best she can without anything to use for such a task. "But just so you know, I will make sure to tell you every little thing that bothers me while I'm here," she adds petulantly before stalking back into the house.

Maria narrows her eyes at you but says nothing. She'll admit that she might not be as loud about complaining as she said she would, since deep down she really doesn't want to end up back on the streets. But there will definitely be some things that will bother her while she's here, and if she does decide to tell you about them, it won't be because she feels like being polite or obedient. It'll just be because she can't help herself sometimes.

Maria glances at you as you begin to make scrambled eggs and decides not to disturb you. Instead, she wanders into the living room, sits down on the couch, and flips through channels on the TV with a bored expression. She's still far from happy about being here or the circumstances that brought her here, but for now, she figures it's better than sleeping outside.

"How do you expect me to eat something like this?" Maria asks suddenly, glaring at you over her shoulder as you set a plate of eggs in front of her. She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "I don't even know why it's called 'scrambled' if it looks like this."

Maria huffs and rolls her eyes before looking away, deciding not to respond further. She glances back at the plate of eggs but doesn't touch them. Instead, she gets up from the couch and wanders off to find something else to eat in the kitchen. While she's searching through cabinets and drawers, she wonders where everything is and how she's supposed to cook anything without knowing. She sighs heavily, feeling more annoyed than ever before at being here.

"I don't suppose you have any instant ramen or something like that?" she asks hopefully, not bothering to turn around when she speaks. "Something I could actually make myself?"

Maria sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, looking even more put out now. "Fine," she grumbles under her breath as she continues searching through the cabinets in vain for some kind of food that doesn't require actual cooking skills or knowledge of where things are kept. This place is like a foreign country to her, and she feels increasingly trapped here with each passing moment.

Eventually, she gives up on finding anything edible and retreats back into the living room, sitting down on the couch again with an annoyed huff. The eggs you made for yourself are cold by now, but that doesn't bother her nearly as much as not being able to find something she can actually eat. She glares at you again from where she sits, daring you to comment or try to make her feel more welcome in your home.

Maria glares daggers at you as she watches you eat your eggs with an expression that clearly shows just how little she thinks of them. She feels hungrier by the second, but refuses to ask for any more help or food from someone who's treating her so poorly. Maybe if she goes without eating long enough, you'll finally kick her out and let her go back where she belongs: on the streets with no hope of ever escaping this miserable existence.

Maria watches with interest as you make lemonade and put it in the fridge, surprised at your level of hospitality. Despite her better judgment, a small part of her wonders if maybe things here won't be quite as bad as she thought. She decides not to give in to these fanciful thoughts just yet; after all, you haven't exactly been nice to her so far.

When the lemonade is finished, she hesitates for a moment before speaking up. "Um... can I have some of that?" Her voice comes out slightly more meek than she intended, but she doesn't want to seem too forward or ungrateful either.

María blushes slightly at your unexpectedly friendly tone and takes the glass of lemonade you offer her with a shaky hand. "Thank you," she mumbles, sipping on it cautiously before relaxing a little and taking another sip, enjoying the cold, refreshing taste on her tongue. She glances up at you, trying to gauge your reaction but still not quite sure what to make of all this sudden niceness.

"Um... do you want some help with anything else?" she asks tentatively, deciding that maybe she could at least try to be somewhat useful around here if that's what it takes to stay. Her words are awkward and forced, but they're a start.

Maria raises an eyebrow in surprise and then slowly nods. "Fine," she mutters under her breath. "But I'm not going to do it right this second or anything. You can go ahead and put me to work later." Her tone is still a little sour, but at least there's an underlying hint of cooperation now that she's been given something to do.

She decides not to waste any more time being idle and gets up from the couch, walking over to the kitchen to start looking for where the dishes are kept so she can get started on her assigned task. Even though she doesn't want to admit it, she's a little relieved to have something to do; at least now she won't feel quite so useless and helpless in this strange new environment.

Maria looks up from where she was unloading the dishwasher and narrows her eyes at you suspiciously. "What kind of food?" She asks warily, not trusting your motives for suddenly being so nice to her. Her expression is wary and skeptical, like she's expecting you to play some sort of trick on her or worse yet, try and get something in return for your supposed generosity.

The thought makes her feel uncomfortable, but she pushes it aside as best she can and continues washing the dishes without saying anything else. Maybe if she just ignores you long enough, you'll go away or forget all about this whole arrangement between them. It's not like she wants to stay here anyway; she's just trying to survive until something better comes along.

Maria shrugs and continues washing dishes. "I don't know... I guess you could make something simple? Like pasta or rice or something. I don't want anything fancy, just as long as it fills my stomach." Her voice sounds distant, still not quite trusting your intentions.

As she speaks, she glances over at you from the corner of her eye, studying your expression to see if there's any hidden meaning behind your words or actions. So far, she hasn't seen anything outright suspicious, but that doesn't mean she's completely convinced that you're not up to something. It's just easier this way - easier for her to stay cautious and wary when dealing with strangers like yourself.

Maria nods slowly and doesn't bother to reply as she finishes washing the last dish and returns it to its proper place in the cupboard. She turns back around, eyes narrowed as she watches you out of the corner of her vision while pretending not to pay attention. It's an awkward silence that stretches between them for several minutes before she finally decides to break it.

"So... how long do you think I can stay here?" Her voice is soft, almost shy, as if she's afraid of what your answer might be. But deep down, part of her is starting to hope that maybe this arrangement between them will last a little longer than she expected; perhaps even long enough for things to get better somehow.

She glances up at you, her expression hopeful yet guarded, waiting for your response with bated breath.

Maria sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Fine," she says defeatedly. "I'll tell you everything, but then... then maybe you'll decide I should just go somewhere else." She pauses for a moment, gathering her thoughts before continuing in a rush of words.

"My parents were never really there for me growing up; they always preferred my older brother over me. And now that I'm older, it's only gotten worse. They expect me to follow all these stupid rules and live my life the way they want me to, but I can't do that anymore. So I ran away... hoping to find a place where I could be happy."

Her voice trails off at the end, leaving her story unfinished as she looks up at you expectantly, wondering what your reaction will be. Will you understand? Or will you just send her pack

Maria watches you carefully as you prepare the pasta, trying to gauge your reaction to her story. A part of her wishes she could trust you enough to open up fully, but another part of her holds back, fearing that if she does so, you'll only use it against her in some way.

She decides not to press the issue any further for now and instead focuses on helping out with dinner. "Do you need me to do anything else right now?" she asks, her voice still soft but a little more confident than before. She glances at the cupboards, wondering if there's something else she could get to make things easier.

María nods slowly and looks around the kitchen, still unsure if there's anything else she could do to help. She decides against bothering you with it for now, figuring that perhaps waiting until you need her assistance would be best. So instead, she pulls out a chair at the table and sits down, watching you work on dinner with interest.

It feels strange being in this house with someone else around; María's used to having plenty of time alone where she can think and process things without anyone bothering her. But so far, you've been surprisingly civil toward her, which gives her hope that perhaps your offer of staying here wasn't just some cruel joke after all.

She takes a deep breath, trying to relax and enjoy the moment instead of constantly worrying about what might happen next. It isn't easy for her, but she figures it can't hurt to try.

María looks up at you warily as you set a plate of pasta in front of her and take one for yourself as well. The expression on your face is difficult to read, making it hard for her to gauge whether or not she should trust you. She watches carefully as you sit down across from her at the table, waiting to see if you'll make any suspicious moves or say anything that might indicate that she's made a mistake by staying here.

She takes a tentative bite of the pasta, surprised by how good it tastes. It's been so long since she's had something this simple and delicious, and for a moment, she almost forgets about all her worries and fears. But only for a moment; they creep back in as soon as she swallows, weighing heavily on her heart once more.

"Thank you," she mumbles, not meeting your

María hesitates for a moment before deciding to return your smile, albeit weakly. It's not that she doesn't want to trust you; it's just that her instincts are telling her not to let her guard down so easily. She takes another bite of the pasta, trying to focus on the taste and texture instead of dwelling on everything else.

"So... what do you do for a living?" she asks cautiously as she continues eating, hoping the conversation will help distract her from her own thoughts. It's not that she isn't curious; it's just that she doesn't want to bring up anything personal about herself unless absolutely necessary.

She glances around the room again, still trying to get a feel for your life and what kind of person you are beneath the surface.

She frowns slightly as she considers your profession. It's not exactly what she expected you to do, but it's not unheard of either. "That must be interesting," she says after a moment, deciding that the least she can do is show some level of curiosity and politeness toward her hosts. Even if they are only temporary ones.

She takes another bite of pasta, thinking about what else she could ask you about without appearing too nosy or prying. The silence between them stretches on for a few moments before she decides to break it again. "So... do you have any siblings?"

Maria nods thoughtfully as she listens to you speak about your job. It's interesting how people can find calm and relaxation in such different things. She thinks back to her own life, filled with stress and turmoil at home, and wonders what it would be like to have a peaceful hobby or occupation like gardening.

"That's cool," she says with a smile, then pauses for a moment before continuing. "And your brother? Is he close to you?" The question comes out more bluntly than intended; she hadn't meant to sound so invasive, but curiosity gets the better of her sometimes.

She takes another bite of pasta, wondering what kind of reaction she might get from you this time.

Maria smiles at your words, feeling a bit relieved to hear that you and your brother are close despite any differences between you. It's not uncommon for siblings to have their own issues, but it's always nice when they can maintain a good relationship despite everything else. She thinks back to her own brother with fondness, remembering the times they used to fight and make up again just minutes later.

"That's good," she says softly, taking another bite of pasta before continuing. "Do you guys do anything together? Maybe go on vacations or stuff like that?" It sounds innocent enough, just simple curiosity about the lives of other people, but there's an undercurrent of longing in her voice that can't be completely disguised.

The thought of having someone to do things with, even if it's just your own brother, brings a pang of envy and sadness to María's heart. She misses her brother terribly, wishing they could be as close as you and yours seem to be. But she knows that their relationship wasn't perfect, either; there were times when they didn't get along or preferred to spend time apart.

Still, hearing about your bond with your sibling only serves to remind her of what she's lost. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself not to dwell on it too much, and focuses instead on the conversation at hand. "That sounds nice," she manages to say, her voice sounding more genuine than forced this time. "I wish I had someone like that."

She looks up at you in surprise when you apologize for her situation, and for a moment she doesn't know what to say. Your words are unexpected, and they catch her off guard. She blinks back tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks as she tries to compose herself. It's been so long since anyone has shown her any sympathy or understanding.

"It's... it's okay," she manages to choke out eventually, her voice breaking. "I'm used to it." But even as she says the words, she knows they're a lie; she'll never get used to being alone and unloved. She swallows hard, determined not to break down completely in front of you.

They sit in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. María continues eating her pasta mechanically, not really tasting it anymore as she tries desperately to reg

María blinks away the last remaining tears and looks up at you when you ask her age. "I'm sixteen," she says quietly. It feels strange admitting that to someone she hardly knows; usually she tries to pretend like she's older than she really is, just because it makes her feel more mature and in control of her life. But for some reason, with you, she doesn't feel the need to lie about it.

She takes another bite of pasta, thinking about what you said before. Maybe one day she will be able to reconcile with her family; maybe things won't always be like this. For now, though, all she can do is focus on surviving each day as it comes and hoping for the best tomorrow.

She smiles softly at your words, feeling a sense of comfort and understanding that she hasn't experienced in a long time. "Thank you," she says quietly, looking down at her empty plate as if it holds the answers to all her problems. It doesn't, of course; nothing can change the fact that her family doesn't want her right now. But maybe one day they will realize what they're missing and come back into her life, just like you said.

Until then, she'll keep moving forward, learning and growing from everything that happens to her. She glances up at you again, feeling a strange connection forming between the two of them despite their differences in age and situation. It's a comforting thought; perhaps even enough to help her make it through this difficult time.

The offer of more lemonade brings her back to reality momentarily. She glances at the empty pitcher on the table and nods gratefully in response. "That'd be nice," she says, pushing her half-finished plate aside. Despite everything that's happened tonight, there's something about being here with you that makes her feel... not quite so alone. She isn't sure what it is yet, but for now, she'll take whatever comfort she can get from this strange new situation.

She takes the freshly poured glass of lemonade with a shy smile, taking a sip before setting it down again. The cool, tangy liquid is just what she needed to clear her head and relax after everything that's happened tonight. She looks up at you from under her lashes, grateful for your company and the unexpected kindness you've shown her tonight.

Perhaps things aren't quite as bad as they seem, she thinks to herself. Maybe there is hope for her yet.

"I promise," she says with a small laugh, her eyes darting briefly around the room as if to reassure you that she won't cause any trouble. The thought of taking a bath herself actually sounds quite appealing at this point; she hasn't had time for one in days, and the smell of soap and cleanliness would be like a welcome relief from her current state of filth and discomfort.

"Thanks again for dinner," she adds hastily, hoping to convey just how grateful she is for everything you've done tonight. She doesn't know why you're being so nice to her, but she isn't about to complain; at least not yet, anyway.

As you head off toward the bathroom, leaving her alone in the kitchen once more, María can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. She wonders why you've been so nice to her tonight and whether or not she can really trust you, but at the same time, she finds herself enjoying your company and feeling strangely at ease around you. It's an unfamiliar sensation for her these days, and one that she isn't quite sure how to handle.

Deciding not to overthink things too much, she rinses out her plate and glass, putting them in the dishwasher before starting to wander around the room, taking in your cozy home. For a moment, she allows herself to forget about everything else and just exists in this small slice of normalcy that you've given her for however brief a time. Maybe there's hope for things to get better after all

"Oh, uh..." María looks over at you sheepishly, feeling slightly embarrassed that she didn't wait for you to come out of the bathroom before helping herself to your kitchen. "I thought I'd just make things easier," she says by way of explanation, not meeting your eyes as she twists her fingers together nervously.

Your expression softens when she doesn't meet your gaze and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, thank you for that," he tells her gently. "I appreciate it."

The tension in the room seems to ease slightly as the air between you lightens once more. María exhales slowly, feeling relieved that she didn't manage to ruin anything while rummaging around your kitchen without permission. She glances back up at you, unable to keep herself from smiling in return.

The look in your eyes catches her off guard; there's something... genuine behind it, almost like you actually mean what you're saying. María feels a warmth spread through her chest at the realization that maybe she misjudged you, that maybe you aren't as bad as she thought. For just a moment, they share a tentative smile, and in that brief instant, everything feels okay.

"You're welcome," she whispers, finding it hard to look away from your face. There's so much she wants to ask you, to say... but at the same time, she knows this is only temporary, and she shouldn't get too comfortable or expect anything more than what you've already given her.

"I-I should probably get some sleep," she stammers, turning away from you and beginning to gather up her things. She isn't sure why she feels the need to make an

The awkward silence that follows your goodnight makes it difficult for María to get comfortable as she lies down on the couch in the living room. She wishes you hadn't gone to bed quite so soon; part of her wanted to talk more, to get to know you better. But at the same time, she understands why you would want some space after letting her stay here for the night.

She stares up at the ceiling, watching as shadows play across the walls and listening to the soft sounds of your breathing from the bedroom next door. For a moment, she allows herself to drift off to sleep, dreaming of a future where things are different... better. But even as her eyes grow heavy and her mind begins to wander, she can't quite shake the feeling that this dream is just that: a fleeting fantasy, destined to remain out of reach forever.

The morning comes far too soon for María

The sound of your footsteps in the hallway jolts her awake, and María blinks groggily around the room as she tries to remember where she is. It takes a moment for her to recall that she's staying at your house; the events of last night feel like a distant dream now, shrouded in the hazy mist of unreality.

She pushes herself up onto her elbows and looks over at you as you enter the living room, still dressed in your pajamas. "Good morning," she murmurs, trying to muster some semblance of politeness despite her fatigue. She yawns widely, stretching her arms above her head before rubbing at the sleepy feel

"Good morning," she echoes, yawning again before pushing herself up into a sitting position. She rubs her eyes wearily, feeling the remnants of yesterday's exhaustion weighing heavily on her body and mind. "What time is it?" she asks, glancing over at you for some indication as to whether or not she should be alarmed by how late she slept in.

Your smile reassures her that there's no rush; you don't seem bothered by her tardiness at all, which puts her somewhat more at ease. "Do you need me to help with anything this morning?" She wipes her hands against her pajama bottoms, feeling a bit self-conscious about being so disheveled after sleeping in someone else's home.

"Oh... I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time," she says hesitantly, looking around the room once again as if searching for an excuse to get up and move about. The thought of lying here all day sounds tempting, but she knows that she should probably start making some plans; after all, she doesn't want to overstay her welcome.

"I'll just... get up and make some coffee or something," she decides, forcing herself off the couch with a stretch and a yawn. The living room looks different in the morning light; cozier somehow, despite the fact that it doesn't feel like home to her anymore. She tries not to dwell on that as she heads into the kitchen in search of coffee beans and a clean mug.

Hearing your comment about doing as she likes, María hesitates for a moment before continuing with the coffee machine. It's not that she doesn't appreciate your trust or hospitality; it's just that she isn't used to having so much freedom and autonomy in her life anymore. The weight of her recent circumstances presses down on her shoulders, making even the simplest tasks seem daunting and overwhelming.

She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand and not let her thoughts wander too far astray. Making coffee for you is one thing she can do to show her gratitude; it's something small but hopefully meaningful. As she watches the dark liquid drip into the carafe, she wonders what else she could possibly offer in return.

Her heart drops at the mention of school; she'd nearly forgotten all about it in the comfort of your home. The warmth that had been spreading through her chest begins to fade, replaced by a heavy sense of guilt and self-loathing. She tries not to let it show on her face as she turns back around to face you, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

"I guess I should," she manages to say quietly. The thought of going back out into the world and facing everything that awaits her there is terrifying; she'd much rather stay here, hidden away from the harsh realities of her life. But she knows that she can't, not if she wants any chance at a normal future.

She bites her lip, fighting back tears as she glances down at the coffee maker, wishing there was some way she could thank you enough for everything you've done

Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods silently, unable to find the words to express just how much she wants to stay here with you. "It's not safe for me out there," she manages to whisper, wishing that she didn't have to admit it aloud but knowing deep down that it's true. She wipes away her tears, hating herself for being such a burden and a mess, but unable to stop the torrent of emotions anymore.

"I don't know what to do," she confesses in a small voice, finally looking up at you with pleading eyes. "I can't go back there; I just... can't." For once, she doesn't even try to hide her desperation or fear; it feels too real and raw for her to pretend otherwise.

She waits, heart in her throat, hoping against hope that you'

"Because..." She hesitates, not sure how to explain it to you. Even she doesn't fully understand why her parents are the way they are; all she knows is that they've never been there for her when she needed them most. They always seemed more interested in their own lives and their image than anything else, leaving her feeling like an unwanted burden.

She swallows hard, feeling your hand on her head bringing a tiny bit of comfort amidst all the confusion and fear. "I don't know," she finally says with a shake of her head. "It's just... they've always been cruel to me, even when I tried my best. And now that I messed up so bad, I'm afraid they'll never forgive me." The admission feels like a massive weight lifted from her shoulders, even if it does nothing to change the situation she's in.

She meets

The thought that her parents might be afraid without her brings tears back to her eyes, even as it fills her with a strange sense of peace. She's never really considered the possibility before; everyone always assumes that parents are these unshakeable pillars of strength who can handle anything. But hearing your words makes her realize that maybe they aren't so different from her after all.

She sniffles and wipes at her nose with the back of her hand, trying to compose herself. "I don't know..." she trails off, not quite ready to accept the idea just yet but finding it easier to imagine now that someone has suggested it to her.

"What should I do?" she asks finally, looking up at you with hope in her eyes. Even if her parents aren't as strong as she thought they were, it doesn't change the fact that they are still her parents and that going back to them is not an option.

Tears flow freely down her cheeks as she listens to your words, the weight of her situation settling heavy on her shoulders once more. She knows you're right; telling people about where she stayed last night wouldn't be safe for either of them. And so she forces a shaky nod in acknowledgement, trying to steel herself against the pain that comes with making this decision.

"I understand," she manages to say between sobs. "Thank you for everything, at least... I don't know what I would have done without your help." Her voice trails off as she thinks about the mess her life has become and wonders if there's any way to make it better. For now, all she can do is hope that things will somehow work themselves out, even if they never go back to how they used to be before.

With one last glance in your direction, she turns and leaves the kitchen, heading toward

The offer to stay catches her off guard; she hadn't even considered the possibility of finding shelter somewhere other than her family home. Your voice is kind and understanding, unlike anything she's experienced in a long time, and it tugs at something deep within her. For just a moment, she allows herself to imagine what it might be like to have someone like you in her life: constant, steady, unconditionally loving.

"Thank you," she whispers, feeling a flutter of hope blossom in her chest despite the turmoil raging around her. "I'll... I'll think about it." She can't help but wonder what your motives are for offering her such a thing; is there more to this than meets the eye? Either way, she feels grateful and humbled by your generosity, even if she isn't quite ready to accept it just yet.

She takes a deep breath,

Tears well up in her eyes again as she takes your words to heart. She knows that you genuinely want to help her and doesn't want to seem ungrateful for your offer of shelter or support. "I-I appreciate it," she manages to say, her voice cracking with emotion. "Really, I do."

She hesitates for a moment, unsure how else to express her gratitude without making things awkward between them. Finally, she musters up the courage and takes a step closer, reaching out tentatively to touch your arm. The contact sends a shockwave of electricity through her body, making it hard for her to focus on anything but the warmth and strength emanating from you.

"Thank you," she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper now. "You don't know how much this means to me."

As she takes a seat on the couch, María tries to regain her composure. She feels so emotional and overwhelmed by your kindness; it's been such a long time since anyone has treated her with anything resembling respect or understanding. A part of her wishes she could stay here forever, basking in the safety and comfort that you seem to offer so freely. But she knows that reality is far harsher than her dreams, and eventually, she'll have to face the real world once more.

For now though, she allows herself a moment to revel in the quiet peace that surrounds her as she sits here with you. It may only be temporary, but it feels good enough for now.

As tears stream down her face, María leans into you gratefully, finding solace in the strength and warmth of your shoulder. It's been so long since she's allowed herself to feel anything even remotely resembling peace or comfort; the simple act of crying on someone's shoulder feels like a luxury she could never afford back home.

She clings to you, her body shaking with quiet sobs as she struggles to maintain control over her emotions. It feels good to finally let it all out, even if only for a little while; to be able to be vulnerable and honest without fear of judgment or reprisal is almost too much to bear.

Eventually, her tears begin to subside, replaced by shuddering breaths as she tries to regain her composure. She sniffles loudly, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand before looking up

Thank you, she whispers softly, her voice still raw from crying. "I'm sorry if I made a mess." She glances down at your shoulder, mortified by the idea that her tears and snot might have ruined something of yours.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steel herself against the torrent of emotions still churning beneath the surface. It feels like she's been holding them in for far too long, burying them deep down where they couldn't hurt anyone or anything else. Now that she's finally allowed herself to let go, it's almost painful how much there is still left unsaid and undone.

She takes another deep breath and forces herself to sit up straighter, feeling more composed now that she's stopped crying. She brushes her hair back from her face, wincing at the mess it must be in after all those tears. "Thank you," she says quietly, meeting your eyes for a moment before looking away again. "I don't know what I'd do without someone like you."

The words feel heavy and revealing even as they slip out; it's as if she's admitting something more than just her gratitude for your shoulder to cry on. But before she can dwell too much on the meaning behind them, a noise outside draws her attention away: footsteps approaching the front door.

"Oh no..." she whispers under her breath, suddenly terrified of what might happen next.

Taking a deep breath, María tries to calm her racing heart as you reassure her that it's just your neighbor and not anything more threatening. The mere thought of someone finding out about her being here sends shivers down her spine; she can't help but feel like she's done something wrong simply by accepting your kindness and allowing herself a moment of peace.

She listens intently as the knock on the front door grows louder, her heart racing in her chest. As the handle turns and the neighbor steps inside, she prepares herself for whatever may come next, bracing herself for another round of uncertainty and fear.

Her heart still races as she watches you interact with your neighbor, Charlie. She bites her lip anxiously, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible could happen at any moment despite your assurances to the contrary. It's like living on borrowed time; every second feels weighted down by fear and uncertainty.

Eventually, you invite Charlie in for a drink, leaving María alone with her thoughts once more. She tries not to dwell on them too much, instead focusing on just taking deep breaths and trying to enjoy this small moment of calm before whatever comes next arrives.

The muffled conversation between you and Charlie only serves to heighten María's sense of unease; she strains her ears trying to make out what they're saying, but it all sounds like gibberish to her untrained ear. She takes another deep breath, willing herself not to panic or get too worked up about the situation.

Eventually, the sound of your laughter drifts over to where she's sitting on the couch, and for a moment, it feels like normalcy has returned. But she knows that can't last; sooner or later, reality will intrude once more, and she'll have to face whatever comes next head-on.

The front door closes behind your neighbor, and silence descends once more upon the living room. With a sigh of relief, María allows herself to relax back into the couch cushions, feeling drained by the constant stress and tension that have been plaguing her since she first arrived here.

She glances up at you, unsure what to say or do now that your neighbor has left. The weight of her gratitude and affection for you sits heavily on her chest, making it hard for her to form coherent thoughts or words. For a moment, they simply sit there together in comfortable silence; it feels almost like a respite from everything else going on in their lives.

Eventually, she musters up the courage to speak, her voice barely above a whisper as she asks, "What do you want me to do?" It's a question that carries so much more meaning than just its surface interpretation;

Her face turns crimson at the unexpectedly intimate comment as she looks away, feeling even more awkward now than before. "I-I'm sorry," she stammers, struggling to find words. "I didn't mean for things to be like this." A part of her wonders if you're teasing her or if there's some hidden meaning behind your words; the silence that follows only serves to heighten her discomfort.

She takes another deep breath, forcing herself to meet your eyes once more. "I'm just grateful for everything you've done," she says quietly, not sure how else to express her gratitude without sounding inadequate or insincere.

She swallows hard, nodding solemnly in agreement. It feels strange to hear someone describe her as "small" and "girl," especially when the image of herself has been so twisted by her family and society at large. But somehow, your words make her feel safer, more protected than she has in a long time.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she considers your question about what to do next. Part of her still wants to find a way back home or somewhere safe where she can figure things out on her own; but another part relishes the thought of simply staying here with you, basking in your kindness and protection for however long it may last.

"I don't know," she confesses softly, looking up at you with hope in her eyes. "I just want to be happy, I guess." She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip as she cont

She nods slowly, her heart heavy with the weight of everything she's been through. She knows what you mean; sometimes families do want the best for their children even if they go about it in the worst way possible. It gives her a tiny sliver of hope that maybe one day things will work out between her and hers, but for now, focusing on finding happiness elsewhere feels like the safer bet.

"Thank you," she whispers, reaching up to gently touch your cheek with her palm. The gesture feels so natural, so right in this moment that it takes both of them by surprise. Her fingers linger there for a moment longer than intended before falling away again as she looks into your eyes, searching for some sign of what might happen next between them.

Her breath catches in her throat as you ask about her family; it's a topic she's tried so hard not to think about lately. The memories flood back, each one more painful than the last: their constant criticism and disapproval, her brother's cruelty and neglect, their complete disinterest in anything she did or wanted for herself. Tears well up in her eyes as she forces herself to speak, each word torn from her chest like a knife.

"They never cared about me," she whispers, hating the truth of it even more now that she's voiced it aloud. "They only wanted me to be someone I wasn't; they didn't understand...they still don't." She pauses, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand before continuing, "I thought maybe if I did everything right, if I proved myself

"I don't know," she says quietly, thoughts racing as she tries to make sense of it all. "Perfect grades, a good job, a nice boyfriend...anything that would make them look good or make their lives easier. But no matter what I did, it was never enough." She takes a deep breath, pushing down the pain and anger bubbling up inside her. "I just wish they could understand how much it hurts," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper now.

She shakes her head at your suggestion, tears streaming down her face once more. "I don't think I could ever do that," she says hoarsely, the thought of facing them again too much to bear. "They'd just yell at me some more or tell me how stupid and worthless I am...it would only make things worse."

For a moment, she considers confiding in someone else about her family, but who could she trust? Even here with you, she feels like there are so many unspoken expectations and assumptions that it's impossible to really know what's going on beneath the surface. The thought of trying to explain everything makes her heart ache even more; sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.

Taking a shaky breath, she nods slowly, knowing that you're right. It's her decision to make; no one else can decide for her how much pain and heartache she's willing to endure in the hopes of finding peace with her family again. She wipes away the last of her tears, determined not to let them control her anymore.

"I'll think about it," she whispers, her voice stronger now than it was a moment ago. "And thank you...for everything."

Tentatively, she smiles up at you, her expression soft and uncertain. She's not sure what the future holds, but for now, just being here with someone who cares about her feels like enough. "Thank you," she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper as she leans into your comforting presence once more. For the first time in weeks, maybe even months, she allows herself to feel safe and loved; it's an overwhelming sensation that takes her breath away.

She doesn't know what tomorrow will bring or where she'll be from one moment to the next, but for tonight, at least, she knows that you are with her. And as long as you're by her side, she can face anything and survive.

She nods with a soft smile, content to sit beside you and enjoy your company while you play the game she's never quite understood. The hum of the computer fills the silence between them, creating a gentle background noise that helps her feel more at ease. For now, she's just grateful for this small moment of peace and comfort; she doesn't want to think about what tomorrow might bring or how long it will last. Instead, she allows herself to relax into the couch, taking in every detail of your presence: the way you smile when you concentrate on the game, the gentle rhythm of your breathing as you click away at the keyboard, the warmth emanating from your body that seems to envelop her in its protective hold.

She sighs contentedly, leaning against you as she watches you play. Even if everything else in her life is chaos and uncertainty, at least she has this one moment of

She winces at your description of your interactions with your friends; it's a sharp contrast to the tenderness and understanding you've shown her so far. While she doesn't entirely understand why you would engage in such behavior, she realizes that there are probably many layers to who you are and what makes you act the way you do.

She continues to watch as you play on your PS5, sometimes glancing up at you with curiosity or concern etched on her features. As time passes, a sense of contentment washes over her; being here with you feels like an oasis in the midst of a desert. Despite the differences between them and their situations, she finds solace in the knowledge that, for now, you are by her side.

"Are you sure your friends don't mind?" she asks quietly after a while, unable to keep the question from spilling out. "You seem so nice when we talk...it

She nods slowly in understanding, though she can't help but feel a twinge of sadness at the thought that even close friendships can be so...caustic. It makes her grateful for the time you've spent with her tonight, where you've been nothing but kind and supportive. "I think it's really nice of you to include me," she murmurs, tilting her head to one side as she studies your expression while you play. There's an intensity about you when you focus on the game that's almost magnetic; even though she doesn't quite understand what it is that compels you so, she finds herself drawn to it all the same.

"You don't mind me asking," she continues hesitantly, "but why do you play like that with them? Don't you ever want to just have a nice game without all the..." She trails off, unable to find the right word

She listens intently as you explain the dynamic between you and your friends, trying to wrap her mind around it. It seems so unlike anything she's ever experienced; where she comes from, relationships are much more delicate and fragile, easily damaged by a careless word or action. The idea of being able to engage in such banter without fear of hurting feelings is almost foreign to her.

"I suppose...back home, we'd never be so cruel," she murmurs thoughtfully, glancing up at you from beneath her lashes. "But then again, we never really had the chance to be close like this either." She pauses, considering her words carefully before continuing, "It must take a lot of trust and understanding to have a friendship like yours...and I'm grateful that you were willing to include me in it even just for tonight."

She looks surprised by your comment and considers it for a moment. "Well then," she says with a small smile, "I guess that makes it even more special, doesn't it? To be part of something like this, even if it is just temporary." Her gaze drifts back to the screen as you continue playing, marveling at how easily you seem to interact with your friends despite their rough exterior. It's a reminder that there are different ways of showing affection and care in the world, and maybe - just maybe - she can learn something from them about what true friendship really means.

Her heart flutters at the thought; to be able to watch you play with your other friends would be like a peek into another world entirely. "Yes," she breathes, unable to hide her excitement, "if it's not too much trouble." She glances up at you shyly, afraid that admitting this desire might make you change your mind or think less of her somehow.

"I-I just want to see how you are with them," she stammers, searching for the right words. "And maybe I can learn more about who you really are." It comes out sounding almost desperate, but it's the truth nonetheless; in this strange and foreign place, she clings to any scrap of information that might help her understand the enigma that is you.

She giggles softly at your warning, reaching up to playfully swat your arm. "Oh, I doubt that," she says with a smile. "After all, how bad could you possibly be if you're willing to help someone like me?" There's a note of teasing in her voice, but beneath it lies a genuine curiosity and admiration for who you are, both on-screen and off.

As the hours pass, they sit together, watching you play with your friends over PS5. Occasionally, one of them will say something that makes María laugh or roll her eyes in amusement, but overall it's a peaceful evening spent in each other's company. Whenever she glances at you out of the corner of her eye, she sees only kindness and acceptance reflected back at her - qualities she never thought she'd find so far from home. And for now, that's enough to