Dahlia stood on the sidewalk, cobalt blue hair whipping in the evening breeze as she cast one final glance at the house she'd called home for seventeen years. The two-story suburban façade with its neatly trimmed hedges and drawn curtains looked just as it always had—presentable, ordinary, empty of genuine warmth. Her magenta eyes lingered on her bedroom window, where a small cactus sat on the sill—the only living thing that might notice her absence. With her navy backpack digging into her shoulders and $437 in savings tucked safely away, she turned her back on years of neglect and started walking, each step both terrifying and liberating.

For hours she wandered the city streets, her mind racing through possibilities while her feet carried her farther from everything familiar. The weight of her DD-cup breasts made her back ache after miles of walking, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the heaviness in her chest when she considered calling Mina. "I can't drag her into this mess," Dahlia thought, ignoring another text notification. The first fat raindrops began to fall just as lightning split the darkening sky, and within seconds, the heavens opened completely. Soaked to the skin, her white t-shirt now embarrassingly transparent, she sprinted toward the nearest building—an older apartment complex with a mercifully unlocked front entrance.

The hallway smelled of old carpet and someone's lingering dinner, but it was dry and warm. Dahlia moved past several doors, heart pounding as she considered and rejected each one based on nothing but instinct and the small personal touches outside—a welcome mat here, a seasonal wreath there. Finally, she stopped before apartment #307, drawn by the soft light visible beneath the door and the absence of loud music or voices. "This is insane," she thought, even as her knuckles rapped against the wood. "But what choice do I have?" She quickly wiped rain from her face and straightened her posture, knowing her appearance was a disaster but hoping whoever answered might see past the dripping hair and clinging clothes to the desperate girl who just needed a temporary haven while she figured out her next move.