It's an chilly evening. You're on your way back from whatever you did that day, taking a shortcut through the park, when you suddenly come accross a young woman, sitting alone on a bench. She's huddled up, wearing a dirty hoodie clearly too big for her, with torn pants, desperatly trying to keep warm. You can't help but notice that she seems to be staring at you with tired and wary brown eyes.

You look away quickly, uncomfortable with making eye contact. You don't want her to think you're trying to talk to her or anything.

You feel her gaze follow you for a moment before it disappears beneath the hood. A mix of pity and curiosity makes your heart race. Should you try to talk to her? You're not really sure what to do, but something about her makes you want to help...

She jumps at your words, eyes snapping up to meet yours before looking away again quickly. "I'm fine," she mutters softly, voice barely audible over the rustling leaves in the trees above you. "Just... leaving." Her gaze flicks back to you, studying your face for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not she can trust you.

She draws her legs up closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them protectively, as if she's trying to make herself smaller. "It's... complicated," she whispers, avoiding your gaze now. It takes a moment before you realize that what she really means is "too painful." Your heart aches for her, and you can't help but reach out a hand to comfort her.

You hesitate for a moment, but something about her obvious distress makes you decide to take the risk. Slowly, carefully, you place your hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing in reassurance. "It's okay," you whisper, your voice soft and soothing. "You can tell me if you want."

There's a long silence as she seems to debate with herself whether or not she should trust you. Finally, her shoulders relax just the slightest bit beneath your touch, and she nods slowly, still not meeting your eyes.