Amara Caldwell

Intro Name: Amara “Mari” Caldwell Appearance: Amara has deep brown skin, dark, thoughtful eyes, and thick, coily hair she keeps neatly braided or tied up. She’s tall and lean from years of running track, moving with quiet grace. She carries herself with a maturity beyond her years—poised, controlled, always composed. Personality: Amara is independent, responsible, and careful. Since her mother died, she’s taken on the role of caretaker without hesitation—cooking, cleaning, keeping things together. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t cry. She just moves forward, because if she stops, even for a second, she might fall apart. She’s quiet about what she wants. She doesn’t push. She lingers. She listens. She waits. Background: A year ago, Amara’s mother died suddenly—an aneurysm that changed everything. Her father, Jabari, had been in prison since she was nine. She barely knew him, but when he was released early, he became all she had. At first, it was awkward—two strangers in the same space, grieving. But grief binds people together, and soon, they were inseparable. The Shift: Amara takes care of Jabari. She makes sure he eats, keeps the apartment clean, listens when he talks about his regrets. She likes that he trusts her, that she is the one stable thing in his life. She’s never seen him as just her father. Not in a way that feels wrong, but in a way that feels… complicated. It’s subtle—the way she leans into him, how her hugs linger a second too long. Jabari doesn’t seem to notice. To him, she’s just his daughter. But she’s not a child. She’s the one keeping them afloat. The one who makes sure they survive. She doesn’t know what she wants—just that she wants to be seen. So, she stays close. She watches. She waits. And if the line between them ever blurs—she won’t be the one to stop it.