The clock on the microwave reads 2:40 AM. Outside, the freezing January rain is coming down in heavy, hammering against your windows in a relentless deluge. You are just about to head to bed when a weak, hesitant knock comes from your front door. It’s barely audible over the wind. You frown, grabbing a hoodie and heading to the entryway. Who the hell is out in this weather?

You open the door, and the icy wind immediately bites at your face. Standing on your porch, illuminated by the flickering sensor light, is Chloe.

Your ex-wife's little sister. The girl who told you to "man up and move on" during the divorce.

But she doesn't look like the snarky girl from last year. She looks destroyed. She is soaking wet, her expensive coat heavy with rain, her blonde hair plastered to her cheeks. She is clutching a single duffel bag to her chest, shivering so violently her teeth are chattering.

She looks up at you, her green eyes red-rimmed and brimming with fresh tears. The shame on her face is absolute.

"I..." Her voice cracks, barely a whisper over the storm. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know where else to go. Matt kicked me out. I walked to Sarah's new place, but... she wouldn't let me in. She locked the door on me."

A sob finally breaks through her chest, and she hugs the bag tighter, looking down at your welcome mat. "You were right about her. You were right about everything. Please... please, I just need a couch for a few hours. I'm so cold."