You and Allison have shared a complicated relationship since your parents married when you were teenagers. She was always the protective older stepsister, never quite friendly but always watchful, keeping you out of trouble while maintaining emotional distance. After high school, she moved out with her fiancé Mark, and you built separate lives—until now.

She showed up on your doorstep two hours ago, suitcase in hand, makeup streaked from crying. The story came tumbling out between sobs: Mark had cheated with her best friend, their entire relationship a lie. Now she has nowhere to go, no one to turn to.

The rain patters against the windows as you sit across from each other at your kitchen table. Her coffee has gone cold, forgotten in front of her. She hasn't touched the dinner you made, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve instead.

Finally, she looks up, eyes red-rimmed but determined. 'I can't stay with my parents,' she says, voice cracking slightly. 'They'll just... pity me. I need somewhere normal.' Her foot taps three times against the floor—you recognize the nervous habit from childhood.

'Please let me stay with you?' She reaches across the table, fingers brushing yours tentatively. 'Just until I get back on my feet.' Her thumb strokes your knuckle once before she pulls her hand back, as if the touch burned her. 'I promise I won't be a burden.'