Life, in my opinion, was supposed to be simple.

Wake up, go to work, pay the bills, and try not to think too much about how lonely it felt to come home to an empty apartment every night. That was the quiet little routine I had built for myself, and I was determined to keep it that way.

My name is Elena Cruz, twenty-six years old, single, and—according to my co-workers—married to my job. I wasn’t exactly offended by the comment. After all, they weren’t wrong. Most people my age were busy planning weddings, traveling with friends, or chasing after dreams bigger than their paychecks. Me? I was trying to survive a nine-to-five office job, and sometimes even a nine-to-nine when the boss decided deadlines were more important than human lives.

Still, I wasn’t ungrateful. My job as an assistant manager in a publishing company at least kept food on the table and the lights on in my tiny apartment. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine.

What I didn’t have, however, was family.

My parents had passed away years ago, and with no siblings or close relatives to lean on, the silence in my apartment had long become my only company. I’d gotten used to eating dinner with just the television as background noise and curling up with a book when the nights stretched too long. I’d tell myself that independence was a strength, not a curse. That being alone didn’t mean being incomplete.

But even I had to admit—it was lonely.

And maybe that was why, when my doorbell rang that Monday evening, I was so startled.

Nobody ever visited me.

I checked the peephole and blinked in surprise. What I saw didn’t make sense. Opening the door slowly, I expected a neighbor, a delivery guy, maybe even a lost salesman.

Instead, I found a child.

A boy no taller than my waist stood there, clutching a suitcase almost bigger than himself. His cheeks were round and pink from the chilly air, his black hair soft and slightly messy, and his wide eyes sparkled with something both innocent and determined.

“Auntie~” he chirped sweetly, his voice as soft as cotton candy. “I can’t find my home. Can I stay with you?”

For a long moment, I just stared at him, utterly speechless.

“…Excuse me?”

He blinked at me, tilting his head. Then, without hesitation, he pulled his suitcase over the small gap and waddled right into my apartment like he had every right to be there.

“H-Hey! Wait a second!” I stammered, nearly tripping as I tried to stop him. “You can’t just—hello? I don’t even know your name!”

The boy paused, then turned to face me with the most dazzling smile I had ever seen. “My name’s Eli! Mommy said if I ever got lost, I should look for someone warm. Auntie, you’re warm. Can I stay?”

My heart almost burst on the spot.

This was dangerous. Way too dangerous.

I crouched down to his level, struggling to stay firm. “Listen, Eli. You can’t just stay with strangers. Where are your parents? Did you come here alone?”

He puffed his cheeks in thought, then shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ll be good! I can wash my hands, brush my teeth, and go to sleep early!”

Oh no. He was too cute.

Every logical thought in my head screamed at me to call the police or child services immediately. But the way his tiny hands gripped the suitcase, the way his voice wobbled just a little at the end, made me pause. He looked so small. So vulnerable.

And maybe… maybe I understood what that felt like.

“Alright,” I finally sighed, giving in. “You can stay here tonight. Just tonight, okay? But tomorrow, we’re going to find your real home.”

His whole face lit up, dimples appearing as he cheered. “Yay! Thank you, Auntie! You’re the best!”

Before I could react, he ran deeper into my apartment, dragging his suitcase along, and began looking around like he had just found a treasure chest.

I rubbed my temples, already regretting my decision. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Of course, I had no idea then that this small act of kindness would change my life completely.

Because one month later, when my doorbell rang again, I opened it to find Eli standing there once more. Only this time, he wasn’t alone.

Behind him stood a tall man with sharp features, broad shoulders, and the same pair of starry eyes.

Before I could even process the shock, Eli pointed at me with the biggest grin and shouted proudly:

“Mommy! Daddy and I can’t find our home. Can we stay with you?”

And just like that, the quiet little life I had carefully built began to crumble.

But maybe… just maybe… it was the beginning of something I had always been missing.

When I agreed to let the boy stay the night, I didn’t think it through.

Actually, I didn’t think at all. My brain had stopped functioning the second Eli flashed me that dimpled smile.

Now, here I was—standing in my kitchen, staring at him as he sat at the dining table with his suitcase parked beside him, humming happily while swinging his tiny legs back and forth.

Like he belonged here.

“Alright,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “First things first—you can’t just go around calling random people Auntie and barging into their houses. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Auntie~” he replied sweetly, without a trace of guilt.

I squinted. “You’re not listening, are you?”

He blinked innocently. “I’m listening! Auntie said I can’t call strangers Auntie… but you’re not a stranger. You’re my Auntie now.”

I groaned into my hands. This kid was going to give me wrinkles.

Still, I couldn’t let him starve. After rummaging through my fridge, I reheated some leftover spaghetti, setting a steaming plate in front of him. “Eat slowly, alright? It’s hot.”

His eyes lit up like fireworks. “Spaghetti! Mommy used to make this too!”

The way his little voice softened at “Mommy” made my chest ache. Carefully, he picked up the fork and began twirling the noodles, his tiny hands struggling but determined. I caught myself smiling as I watched him slurp them up with exaggerated satisfaction, sauce smudging the corners of his mouth.

“Delicious!” he announced proudly, his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk.

I handed him a napkin, shaking my head. “You’re a messy eater.”

“And Auntie is a good cook,” he added with absolute seriousness.

For a moment, I forgot he was a stranger. For a moment, the apartment didn’t feel so empty.

After dinner, I tried asking questions again. “Eli, where exactly did you come from? Do you remember your address? Your parents’ names?”

He tilted his head, thinking hard. “Daddy… is very tall. And Mommy smells like flowers. That’s all I remember.”

“That doesn’t help much,” I muttered, though I didn’t want to discourage him.

His lashes drooped a little as he whispered, “But… Mommy said I’d find home if I followed the stars.”

I froze. Followed the stars? What kind of instructions were those?

Before I could ask further, he yawned widely, rubbing his eyes. It was late. Too late for a child to be awake.

“Come on,” I said gently, leading him to the spare room I usually used for storage. “You can sleep here tonight.”

The room wasn’t much—just a small bed, a desk, and shelves filled with random boxes—but Eli’s face lit up as if I had just shown him a palace. He climbed onto the bed with surprising ease, hugging his suitcase like a teddy bear.

“Auntie, will you read me a story?” he asked hopefully.

I hesitated. It had been years since anyone asked me that. But one look at his expectant eyes and I caved, pulling a random children’s book from the shelf.

As I read aloud, his little breaths grew slower, softer, until he finally drifted off to sleep.

I stood there for a long moment, just watching him. The rise and fall of his tiny chest, the way his lips curved faintly even in sleep, the absolute innocence of his presence.

Something deep inside me stirred—something I hadn’t felt in years.

Warmth.

But along with it came fear. Because tomorrow, I’d have to call the authorities. Tomorrow, I’d have to let him go.

I turned off the light, whispering quietly into the dark. “Just one night, Eli. Just one night.”

Yet even as I lay awake in my own bed, listening to the faint sound of his soft breathing down the hall, I knew I was lying to myself.

Because somehow, this little stranger had already found a way into my heart.

Morning sunlight spilled into my apartment, soft and golden, as if it were determined to chase away my doubts.

I sat at the edge of my bed, staring at my phone screen. My thumb hovered over the number for child services, but I couldn’t press it.

It was the right thing to do. I knew that. Eli wasn’t mine. He had parents somewhere, worried sick, maybe searching desperately. Calling the authorities was the responsible choice.

And yet…

“Auntie!”

The door to my bedroom flew open, and a small bundle of energy came running in. Eli, still in his wrinkled pajamas, hair sticking up in every direction, scrambled onto the bed with surprising strength for such tiny arms.

I blinked. “Hey—don’t you knock?”

He grinned mischievously, dimples flashing. “I was hungry. And Auntie wasn’t waking up.”

Before I could scold him, he plopped himself onto my lap, hugging my waist like a koala. His small body was so warm it melted every ounce of resistance I’d tried to build.

My thumb slipped away from the call button.

“…You really shouldn’t get too attached to me,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Eli tilted his head. “But I like Auntie. You smell nice. You made spaghetti. You read me a story. You’re home.”

That word again. Home.

My heart clenched.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Breakfast first. But after that, we’re figuring this out.”

He cheered like I had just promised him candy for life.

---

The kitchen was livelier than it had ever been. Eli sat at the table, feet dangling as he tapped them against the chair, while I fried eggs and warmed bread. He hummed a tune I didn’t recognize, cheerful and off-key, but somehow… it made the silence less heavy.

When I placed the plate in front of him, his eyes widened like I’d served him a feast. “Wow! Auntie’s cooking is better than restaurants!”

I nearly laughed. “It’s just eggs and toast.”

“But it’s yummy!” he insisted, biting into the bread with exaggerated joy. Crumbs scattered across the table, and I had to hand him another napkin before he made a mess.

Watching him eat, I realized how naturally he had slipped into my routine. As if he had always been here, filling the spaces I didn’t even know were empty.

And that was dangerous.

After breakfast, I tried again. “Eli, we need to talk. You can’t just stay here forever. We have to find your real home.”

His little face fell instantly. He hugged his suitcase tightly, eyes watering. “You don’t want me?”

I panicked. “No! That’s not it—I just—”

Tears welled up, glistening like jewels, and his lips trembled. “But Auntie said I can stay. Mommy said warm people are home. Auntie is warm. If I leave… I’ll be cold again.”

My heart broke cleanly in two.

I pulled him into a hug before I could stop myself. His small arms wrapped around my neck, holding on as if letting go would make him disappear.

Just one night, I had told myself.

But maybe… just one more day wouldn’t hurt.

“Alright,” I whispered into his hair. “Just today. But after today, we really have to figure things out.”

Eli sniffled, then pulled back with the brightest smile, like sunshine breaking through clouds. “Okay! Just today!”

I knew then that I was already losing this battle.

Because for the first time in years, my apartment wasn’t just a place where I lived.

It was a home.

And it was all because of one little boy who had knocked on my door.