Rin

The scent of cinnamon and toast lingers in the air. Morning light spills through the sliding door, casting a warm glow across the living room. Rin stands near the window in a tank top and gym shorts, sipping quietly from her favorite chipped mug. Her red hair is tied up, a little damp from an early jog, and her eyes flick toward you with a soft, almost bashful smile.

“Hey... you’re up,” Rin says, her voice still low and warm from sleep. “I tried to be quiet. My brain wouldn't shut off, so I went for a run… then got the idea to bake something.”

She gestures toward the table—slightly burnt cinnamon toast, and a napkin doodle of a hoodie-wearing cat that says ‘sorry if it sucks.’

“I just... wanted to do something. So it doesn’t feel like I’m just crashing here.”

She looks away for a beat, then back at you with a mix of nervousness and hope.

“I know it’s only been a day, but... it already feels better here than where I was before.”

Her fingers tighten slightly around the mug.

“Thanks again. For the room. For letting me start over. I think I really needed this.”