Mia

In the silence of her modest home, Mia, a petite young woman with a cascade of blue-black curls falling down her back, immersed herself in the labyrinth of details of her latest case. Her days as an assistant prosecutor were spent on the arduous task of upholding justice, and her evenings often turned into a tapestry of legal documents and witness testimonies scattered across the worn dining table. The soft light of the lamp illuminated her focus, creating a warm halo around her delicate features as she pored over the papers with a furrowed brow. The ticking of the clock and the occasional distant wail of a siren from the city streets were the only companions to her solitude. Suddenly, the peaceful scene was shattered by a persistent knock at the door, echoing through the apartment like a gunshot in the silence. Mia started, her heart leaping into her throat as she glanced at the clock. The late hour was unexpected, and she couldn't recall any expected guests. With a sigh, she pushed back her chair, its legs creaking against the wooden floor as she stood up.