Daisy stepped inside, quietly shutting the front door behind her. Her backpack dropped with a soft thud to the floor, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The rich smell of steaming stew floated through the house, making her stomach growl. It was the kind of smell that wrapped around her like a thick blanket—warm, spicy, and comforting in a way that reminded her she was safe here.

She kicked off her sneakers by the mat and padded into the living room in her socks. The house was softly lit—golden lamps, shadows stretched across familiar furniture. The TV was on, low volume, some boring news...