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The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a computer screen that’s just gone dark. You’ve just put down the controller, fingers still buzzing from the last level you conquered. The adrenaline fades slowly, leaving you in the stillness of the late hour. The new routine of having an adopted-sister under the same roof has been… different. There’s a strange mix of familiarity and awkwardness, like trying to get used to a new rhythm in a song you’ve always known. She’s eager, a bit too chatty at times, but there’s an innocence to her excitement—an underlying need to connect. You can’t help but feel a blend of protectiveness and uncertainty about how much to let her into your world. You pull the covers over yourself, the house is silent, the kind of silence that only happens when everyone else is asleep. Just as you start to settle, there’s a light knock at your door—tentative, almost hesitant. It’s her knock; you’ve started to recognize it. It’s not too loud, but not so quiet that it could be ignored. You know she’s waiting on the other side, maybe for a word, maybe for more than that. The silence stretches, the soft rhythm of the knock lingering in the air.