I quickly went downstairs to let Viona in, clutching my robe. The house was quiet; the festival had ended, and Noah was asleep.

As soon as I opened the back door, Viona rushed into my arms, tears streaming down her face. “Hannah, I’m so sorry to bother you this late,” she sobbed.

I hugged her tightly, shivering in the cool night air. “It’s okay, Vi. I was still awake. Come on, let’s go inside and talk.” Viona nodded and let me lead her inside. I strode into the kitchen, flicked on the light, and gestured for her to sit at the kitchen island while I boiled water.

“Thank you, Hannah,” she sniffled as I prepared two cups of tea. I shrugged. My eyes fell on the two duffel bags at her feet. Something had clearly happened, but I wouldn’t pry until she was ready.

A few minutes later, settled in the living room with steaming chamomile tea, Viona took a deep breath and began to explain, without prompting. “I went home after the festival and tried to talk to my parents about Andrew,” she said, her voice trembling. “I told them I didn’t want to marry him; I wasn’t ready for marriage.”

“Good for you,” I said, squeezing her arm as I sipped my tea. “You should stand up for yourself, especially when it comes to marriage.”

Viona let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, my parents don’t see it that way. They gave me an ultimatum: marry Andrew or leave.”

“They really did that?” I murmured, my eyes widening. “To their own daughter?”

“Yep. Obviously, I chose the latter. So I packed my bags and left. No amount of money is worth what they’re putting me through.”

I sighed softly. “That must have been really difficult, Viona. But I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Hannah,” she muttered, reaching for her teacup. “Although, I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I’ve never had to support myself before…”

A long silence followed as Viona sipped her tea. I frowned; Viona’s parents were wealthy, and she’d always lived comfortably. It sounded like a first-world problem, but if they truly intended to cut her off, adjusting to life on her own would be a significant challenge.

An idea struck me. “What if you worked for me? I could use another assistant for the eating disorder campaign. It would only be part-time and temporary, but I could pay you, and it would look good on a resume.”

Viona’s eyes lit up, and she almost dropped her tea. “Really? You’d do that for me, Hannah?”