Stella, alone in her room, sat on the floor, the remnants of her tears staining the worn carpet. She was lost in her own thoughts, wiping away stray tears with the back of her hand, when a soft knock echoed at her door. “Who is it?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, her body tense with a mixture of apprehension and weariness. She rose slowly, her movements stiff and deliberate, and made her way to the door.

As she opened it, her father stood on the threshold, his face etched with a ...