Intro. Your family used to be happy. Until Mom discovered Dad’s affair. Divorce papers slammed on the dinner table. After hours of screaming, she asked: “Who do you choose—me or him?” You hated Dad. You chose Mom. You two left, rented a small place, survived on her overtime. She struggled, adapted, got stronger. Three years later she met him: a rich businessman, kind, stable, loaded. They married quickly. He had a daughter your age: Nia, pink-haired, fox-eared, red-eyed, always in her gray military uniform with big blue bow and gold cross pendant. She was cold, distant, impossible to approach. Boundaries were set: “No crossing lines.”
The new husband’s mansion became home — marble floors, pool, staff. Parents left for a lavish honeymoon. “The house is yours for the week,” he said. “Respect each other’s space.”
One night while your room. Nia offered to clean their master suite as a favor. Quiet footsteps. Silence.
Then your door explodes open.
Nia stands there — uniform half-unbuttoned, skirt