It's an chilly evening. You're on your way back from whatever you did that day, taking a shortcut through the park, when you suddenly come accross a young woman, sitting alone on a bench. She's huddled up, wearing a dirty hoodie clearly too big for her, with torn pants, desperatly trying to keep warm. You can't help but notice that she seems to be staring at you with tired and wary brown eyes.

"Uhh..." She looks down, clearly uncomfortable and scared "N-nothing..." *Her voice is quiet and shaky, she doesn't trust you.

"I'm just... passing through..." *She mumbles, still looking down. It's obvious she doesn't want to talk, but there's something about you that makes her feel uncomfortably safe... or at least less threatened than usual. "My name's Adalia."

"N-nice to meet you..." she whispers softly, barely audible even to her own ears. She shifts uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench and pulls her dirty jacket around herself tighter, trying to get warm. Her eyes flicker up towards you before darting away again quickly. It's clear that she doesn't trust anyone, especially not men...

"N-not exactly..." She mutters softly, her voice barely audible above the wind. "It's just... my parents and I had an argument... They threw me out for no reason! It's all their fault!" She crosses her arms tightly across her chest, as if trying to protect herself from the world.

The park is mostly empty at this hour, but a few people walk past them every now and then, casting curious glances in their direction. Adalia feels even more self-conscious than usual under their gaze.

"No! I'm not homeless!" She snaps defensively, her voice raising a little higher than she intended. "I just... need some time alone." Tears well up in her eyes and she wipes them away quickly, trying to regain her composure.

It's obvious that Adalia is unused to being so vulnerable, and the outburst has left her feeling even more exposed than before. She hugs herself tighter, looking down at the ground again, her long brown hair obscuring part of her face.

"I..." Her voice trails off, as she struggles to find the words. "Yeah... I've been alone for a while now." She finally says quietly, her tone devoid of emotion. The truth is, being alone has become her only comfort; it's all she knows how to do. But deep down inside, there's a part of her that longs for something more... for someone to care about her and make her feel safe and loved again.

She glances up at you, studying your features carefully. There's something about you that makes her heart race faster than usual. It's almost as if she can feel herself wanting to trust you, despite all the warning signs in her head. "I-if you don't mind... I could use some company..."

She hesitates for a moment, looking around nervously before finally nodding. "Okay..." Her voice is barely above a whisper. Slowly, she stands up and begins to follow you out of the park, her steps unsteady as she wades through the tall grass and fallen leaves.

The cold wind whispers through her hair and past her face, making her shiver. She crosses her arms over her chest once more, huddling in on herself to try and stay warm. It's obvious that she's still uncomfortable being this close to another person, especially a man, but for some reason... there's something about you that makes her feel at least somewhat safe.

As you lead her towards your car, she can't help but wonder where you're taking her and what sort of person you really are. A part of her is terrified of getting too close to anyone

Tentatively, she sits down in the passenger seat of your car, carefully avoiding any physical contact with you. Her gaze darts around nervously as you close the door and then move to the driver's side. The interior of the vehicle is warm, but it doesn't seem to make much of a difference; she's still shivering. "T-th-thank you..." She stutters out, her voice barely audible even when she tries to speak louder.

Once you're both settled in and the car is moving, she takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Her hands are trembling as she folds them tightly together in her lap; it's an attempt to stop their constant movement and fidgeting. She doesn't know what else to do or say in this situation, so she simply stares out of the window, watching the world flash by as you drive

"W-what? T-to your house?" She squeaks out, her eyes going wide with fear and uncertainty. "I c-can't..." Her voice trails off as she shrinks back into the seat. The idea of being in a strange man's home is terrifying to her; it fills her mind with images of all the awful things that could happen.

But then, there's something about your expression... You don't seem like the type of person who would hurt her... maybe? Her heart flutters nervously as she tries to decide what to do, torn between her instinctive mistrust and an almost inexplicable sense of safety.

"I-I don't know..." She whispers, her voice shaking. "I trusted someone before... and look where that got me." Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she remembers the pain and betrayal of her past. It's easier for her to stay numb than to risk feeling anything again; at least then she won't get hurt so badly when people let her down.

But you... there's something about you that makes her want to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time. It's a scary thought, and one that she's not entirely sure how to handle, but she can't help feeling drawn to the possibility of trusting someone again... despite all the warning signs in her head telling her not to.

She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving as she tries to steady herself. "Okay..." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "I'll... I'll trust you." It's a huge admission for her, one that she doesn't take lightly, but there's something about the way you look at her, something in your eyes that makes her feel safe enough to let down her guard just a little bit.

Tentatively, she reaches out and clasps her cold fingers around yours, marveling at how warm they feel against her skin. It's a small gesture of trust, but for now, it's enough. "I-if that's okay with you..."

Shivering and still cold despite the warmth of the car, she nods meekly, following you into your home. Her heart pounds in her chest as she takes in the unfamiliar surroundings; every corner, every piece of furniture feels foreign and slightly intimidating. She can't help but wonder what this man will do to her now that she's trusted him so fully...

As you lead her into a cozy-looking living room, she sinks gratefully onto the plush sofa, wrapping her arms around herself once more. It's been so long since anyone's cared enough about her comfort to make sure she has a warm place to sit; it's almost overwhelming. Her gaze darts around nervously as you disappear into the kitchen for a moment, but when you return with a steaming mug of hot cocoa and a plate of cookies, she feels a tiny spark of hope ignite inside her chest. "T-th-thank you..." She stammers out, taking the mug gratefully and blowing on it before sipping carefully. The sweet liquid warms her insides almost instantly, making her feel just a little less cold and alone. "I-is everything okay...?" She asks hesitantly, glancing up at you from beneath her l

She listens carefully as you explain that your job is to help people, and that understanding how she ended up on the street will help you make sure it doesn't happen again. Slowly, cautiously, she begins to trust you even more; there's something about your calm demeanor and genuine concern for her well-being that tells her she's in safe hands.

As they talk, she feels herself relaxing a little more, eventually setting the mug of hot cocoa down on the coffee table as she leans back against the sofa, staring up at you with wide eyes. "I-it all started when my parents... argued..." She trails off, her voice quivering. "They didn't mean to hurt me, they just... They thought it was best for everyone."

A tear slips down her cheek as she remembers the night everything changed. The anger in her father

Her voice breaks as she recounts the terrible night her father found out about her 'slutty' behavior and blamed her for leading him astray. The memory of his fists connecting with her face, over and over again, makes her flinch involuntarily. "He... he called me a whore and threw me out into the streets," she whispers, barely able to get the words past the lump in her throat.

The pain is still so raw, but talking about it with you somehow makes it easier to bear. You remain silent, your expression carefully neutral as you let her tell her story in her own way and at her own pace. It's a gesture of trust that she hadn't expected from anyone, least of all a stranger, and it touches her deeply.

As the tale comes to an end, she takes a shaky breath and wipes away another tear, suddenly feeling exhausted beyond

She nods tiredly, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. The last thing she wants to do is get undressed in front of someone else, especially a man, but after everything that's happened tonight, she doesn't feel like she has much of a choice. Slowly, she pushes herself up off the couch and begins to shuffle towards your bedroom, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

When she reaches the doorway, she hesitates for a moment before glancing over her shoulder at you. "I'm sorry... I don't want you to think..." Her voice trails off, her cheeks flushing crimson with shame. She turns back around and forces herself to take another step into the room, feeling incredibly vulnerable in this moment.

She takes another step into the room and begins to peel off her dirty, ripped jacket, revealing a worn-out tank top underneath. Her movements are slow and deliberate, as if she's moving through water, and her breath catches in her throat every time she thinks about undressing any further. "I-if you don't mind... I could use something warmer..." She mumbles, blushing brightly.

She hesitates for a moment longer before nodding slowly and continuing to undress. She takes off her dirty hoodie, revealing her thin tank top stained with sweat and dirt, and then pulls down her filthy pants to step out of them. Finally, she kicks off her torn socks, leaving her completely naked in front of you. Her body is pale from lack of sunlight, covered in bruises and scrapes from life on the street, but despite it all, there's something about her that radiates an innocence and vulnerability that makes your heart ache with pity.

"I-if you don't mind..." she whispers, her cheeks burning red as she asks for permission to get dressed in one of your shirts. "It's just... it's been so long since I had anything warm..."

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself against the embarrassment, she nods slowly before bending down to pick up her discarded clothes. As you turn around and walk over to your dresser, she carefully begins to put on one of your oversized T-shirts, wincing as it brushes against her bruised skin. It's several sizes too big for her but manages to cover her modestly enough; at least until she can find something warmer and more fitting.

Once she's dressed, she hesitates again before approaching the bed where you've laid out fresh sheets and a cozy-looking blanket. She looks up at you with wide, uncertain eyes as she asks softly, "Mir? Am I allowed to sleep here?" It sounds like such a small request but it feels huge to her, like admitting that she needs someone else more than she ever has before.

She nods gratefully and crawls onto the bed, curling up beneath the cozy blanket as close to you as she dares. It feels safer this way, having someone else near her; even if it's just a stranger who seems genuinely concerned for her well-being. As she drifts off to sleep, she wonders what tomorrow will bring, but for now, the warmth of the bed and your presence chase away the last of her fears.