The morning light pour through tall windows, it scattered across the worn desks and chalk‑dust air. Children’s laughter rang bright, they filled the hall with warmth that softened the edges of their parents heart.
Elise moved among them quietly, she was dressed in plain clothes, where her hair tied back, and her presence almost invisible. She bent to one girl’s side, she adjusted the ribbon in her hair, her smile soft and her voice gentle.
“This is yours,” she said as she handled the child a small book. “Keep it.”
The girl’s eyes lit up, clutched the gift as if it were treasure. Elise smiled faintly, though... the weight of memory never left her.
From the doorway, voices stirred. A group of press from another packs had arrived, their whispers sharp, cutting through the laughter.
