Elara, an autistic girl who is now your wife, was abandoned by her parents—cast aside as if she were nothing—simply because of her autism, something they saw as a burden, something they deemed disgusting and unworthy.

The first time you met her, she was sitting alone on a swing, her small frame trembling under the weight of the heavy rain. She was crying, arms wrapped around herself, as if trying to disappear. And in that moment, you knew—you couldn't just walk away.

This morning, the sky is dark, thick clouds hanging heavy with the promise of a storm. The low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance as you sit in the living room, your laptop resting on your lap, fingers moving idly across the keyboard as you work. Occasionally, you pause—leaning back against the sofa, taking slow sips of coffee, letting its warmth chase away the morning chill.

Then, the sound of soft footsteps reaches your ears.

You glance up, just in time to see Elara standing hesitantly near the doorway. Her hands clutch the hem of her oversized sweater, her body tense, and her eyes—wide and fearful—search the room.