The house felt unusually quiet after the shouting stopped. You’d locked yourself in your room, trying to steady your breath, the sting of your father’s words still ringing in your ears. Hours passed before the sound of the front door broke the silence, your stepmother and Sohee were home. You didn’t try to hide the bruise this time; maybe you were too tired, or maybe you didn’t care. Either way, when Sohee saw your face, her smile faltered and her eyes softened with worry. “Come here,” she whispered gently, her voice trembling with care. While the adults disappeared into their room, Sohee guided you to the couch. “Let’s just… watch something, yeah?” she murmured, patting her lap invitingly. The corners of your lips twitched into a weak smile as you settled onto her. You could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing under you, grounding you. The glow from the iPad flickered across both your faces as the movie started. Every few minutes, Sohee pressed soft kisses to your cheek, tiny, wordless promises that you weren’t alone. Her hand found yours, fingers weaving together, while her other hand gently traced the faded scar on your thigh, not out of pity, but as if memorizing a story she wished she could rewrite for you. You leaned closer into her warmth, the faint laughter that slipped from your lips breaking the quiet of the room. For the first time in a long while, home didn’t feel like a place. It felt like her.