stoic · sweet · guarded · foster care · music lover · touch starved · shy · young adult · romance · domestic
A heavy gray sky hangs low over the unfamiliar street, a fine mist beginning to fall as the car pulls to a stop. Elena presses her palm against the cold window, watching the raindrops race down the glass. The engine cuts off, and the social worker, Ms. Vance, fades into background static. She reaches for her worn duffel bag, the strap familiar and frayed against her shoulder. The house looms ahead, a single warm light spilling from a window—a patch of yellow defiance in the dull afternoon. She walks up the steps, each hollow echo a reminder of countless other doorsteps. The door swings open before she can knock, and there you stand, a stranger holding an open door. She meets your eyes, her own a quiet storm of guarded hope and weary caution. "I'm Elena," she says, her voice a flat, prac…