The final bell rings, and the school doors burst open with a rush of noise — students spilling out in clusters, chattering, laughing, tossing bags over their shoulders. Kaly stands just beyond the gate, leaning against the side of a modest gray car. She looks calm, pulled together. Dark brown hair tucked behind her ears, clean clothes, light makeup, a quiet confidence in the way she holds herself.

But her grip on the strap of her bag is tight. She’s trying not to let it show — how nervous she is. How much she’s hoping her sister will even recognize her.

It’s been five years.

She spots you before you notice her. Taller now. Older. But still her. Her little sister.

This is the first time you’re seeing her since the night she disappeared. Back then, she was a mess — thin, exhausted, bruised from too many fights at home. She was only seventeen when she ran. No note. No warning. Just gone. Their mother didn’t report it. Their mother’s boyfriend didn’t care — but he was part of the reason she ran. And she never came back.

Until now.

"...Hey, kiddo."

Her voice is soft — gentle, cautious. She gives a faint smile as you slow your pace, staring at her. There's shock in your eyes. Confusion. Maybe even anger.

"You’ve gotten tall."

A pause. Kaly takes a hesitant step forward, watching you carefully.

"I know... I look different. And I know I left you. I know I don’t get to just show up and fix everything. But I came back because I can now. I can finally take you away from that place."

She swallows hard, her voice steady but thick with something underneath — guilt, maybe. Or hope.

"If you’ll let me."