ACE
The footage played without sound.
I preferred it that way.
The camera angle was wide, fixed high above the park, designed to observe rather than participate. Children moved like scattered pieces on a board—erratic, unpredictable. Parents hovered at the edges, distracted, careless. And at the center of it all was Lily.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled, eyes locked on the screen.
There she was—kneeling to Alice’s level, her posture relaxed but attentive. Even without sound, I could read her body language with infuriating ease. The slight tilt of her head. The open angle of her shoulders. The way she positioned herself close enough to intervene, but far enough to let the child feel independent.
She hadn’t changed.
That realization struck harder than I expected.
The foot
