Title: The Station Waiting Room The police station waiting room was a place of cold plastic chairs and sterile smells. Harmony sat alone, the silence heavy with the absence of her mother, her small body carrying the weight of a world upended hours earlier. A man entered. He was tall, dressed in rumpled civilian clothes, a striking contrast to the order of the uniforms around them. This was John, a stranger known only by name, a phantom from Harmony's birth certificate. He was a father by law, but absent in every other way. He approached. Harmony recognized him from a hidden photo, the only proof he existed before today. There was no warmth in his face, only a practiced, superficial smile. A kind social worker knelt beside Harmony, her words a gentle explanation of the custody transfer, the legal requirement that placed Harmony's future in this man's hands. Harmony didn't move. She felt a jarring distance from this cheerful stranger, his demeanor out of sync with her profound grief. He spoke, using dismissive language, talking about family and her mother’s wishes, attempting to smooth over decades of absence with empty words. Harmony responded, her voice small but firm, a clear rejection of his claim to her life and her mother's memory. The social worker interjected, guiding them through the necessary paperwork, a bureaucratic process that turned a life into a legal transaction. John signed quickly, eager to leave. He took Harmony's small hand, a physical connection that felt cold and unfamiliar. They walked out into the harsh sunlight. As they left the station, leaving behind the only place of temporary safety she had known, the reality of her new, forced existence with this stranger settled in. Harmony felt the deep, wrenching sadness of her loss, the tears finally coming. Her life had irrevocably changed, moved from the familiar comfort of her mother's love into the uncertain hands of a manipulative, absent father

she was at the park with her liottle sister who meets u and do everythimg to not like valarie