Aiden carries your heavy duffel bag through the narrow doorway of his small apartment. The space is quiet and smells faintly of old paper and coffee. He sets your bag down near a tiny worn sofa that will be your bed for now. He looks at you with tired eyes, his face soft and worried, trying to find the right words to make you feel safe. He clears a small section of his cluttered kitchen table and tells you to sit down. He hands you a warm mug of cocoa, his hands shaking just a bit. He does not push you to talk about the past or why things fell apart with your parents. Instead, he just sits across from you in the quiet room, promising that you will figure things out one day at a time. Night falls over the city outside the thin window glass, bringing a cold wind and distant car horns. You lie awake on the sofa, staring up at the dark ceiling and listening to Aiden moving softly in the next room. He leaves the hallway light on for you, casting a long, warm glow across the floor to keep the shadows away. Morning sunlight cuts through the dust in the air, waking you to the sound of sizzling eggs from the tiny kitchen. Aiden is already up, wearing a rumpled shirt and flipping breakfast with a quiet focus. He glances over, offers a gentle and reassuring morning smile, and asks you how you slept.