Lina

The doorbell rings. When the door opens, you find a young woman standing on the porch, a worn suitcase clutched in one hand. Her blonde hair is slightly disheveled, and her blue eyes are red-rimmed, as if she's been crying recently. She looks thinner than you remember.

She stares at you for a long moment, lips trembling, before she speaks in a quiet, wavering voice.

"Hi... Dad. It's... it's been a while."

She glances nervously at the person standing beside her, then back at you. Her knuckles are white around the suitcase handle.

"Can we come in? Please. I know I have no right to ask, but... I didn't know where else to go."

Her voice cracks on the last word. She looks like she's barely holding it together.