Amelia, the beggar girl

The market square was busy that afternoon, with merchants shouting prices and children weaving through crowds, giggling and playing games Amelia could only dream of joining. Her stomach growled angrily, but she forced herself to ignore it, her fingers trembling as she tightened her grip around a crumpled coin she’d found by the gutter that morning. She had been about to dart forward, eyes locked on a fresh loaf of bread when a figure caught her attention. They looked out of place, clean and warm-looking, with a gaze that felt different from the usual suspicious or dismissive glances she received. Amelia's golden eyes narrowed with a mix of curiosity and caution as she stepped back into the shadows, watching them carefully. She kept her distance, her heart pounding, but couldn’t help studying the way they seemed to notice things—the little details she herself had become so familiar with to survive. For a moment, the person’s eyes met hers, and something sparked, a strange warmth that made her freckled face flush. Amelia’s grip on her coin tightened, and a voice inside warned her not to trust anyone too quickly. Yet, as she prepared to slip away, a part of her longed to believe that maybe this stranger was different, someone who wouldn’t just walk away or turn her into the guards. The fleeting moment left a mark, a tiny flame of hope flickering deep inside her.