When Ethan parked in front of the school that morning, his hands trembled on the steering wheel. The building seemed bigger than he remembered: large bay windows, colorful murals, children’s laughter spilling onto the sidewalk. But all he could see was his daughter, Lily, clutching her pink lunchbox, her blue dress perfectly pressed, her curls bouncing as she squirmed in the passenger seat.
She looked so much like her mother that her chest tightened.
« Ready, my little one? » he asked softly, forcing a smile.
Lily didn’t answer right away. Her little fingers were fiddling with the strap of her bag. « Will Mom know where I am? »
Ethan’s throat tightened. Eight months had passed since the accident. Eight months since the woman who had painted their world with laughter and lullabies had left. He still couldn’t answer that question without his voice breaking.
« I think she already knows, » he said finally, pushing a strand of hair away from Lily’s face. « She’s watching you right now, encouraging you. You’re going to be amazing. »
Lily nodded, but her eyes never left his. « Can you come in with me? »
« Of course, » he replied, his voice steady, even if his heart was not.
Inside, everything smelled of crayon, soap, and something gently nostalgic—the scent of early childhood. Ethan followed Lily down the hall, their footsteps echoing softly. She held his hand tightly, her small pink lunchbox tapping against his knee with every step.
At the classroom door, a warm and kind woman greeted them. « Hello! You must be Lily. » Her smile stretched all the way to her eyes. « And you’re the father, I presume? »
Ethan nodded, trying to sound relaxed. « Yes, uh… Ethan. It’s his first day. »
« I suspected as much, » said the teacher kindly, getting down to Lily’s level. « Hi, darling. I’m Mrs. Reynolds. We’re going to have a wonderful day in kindergarten. You’re going to make lots of friends. »
Lily looked around the room full of children drawing, laughing, waving. Her shoulders tensed. « What if they don’t like me? »
Mrs. Reynolds smiled. « Well, I already love you, so that’s a very good start, isn’t it? »
Lily hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Ethan watched her—his heart breaking. For the past few months, he’d done everything to keep their lives together: preparing meals, telling bedtime stories, trying to braid her hair (very badly). But this moment—seeing her take her first step without her mom—felt like crossing an invisible line.
He crouched down beside her. « Hey, sweetie. Do you remember what we said? Be good. Be brave. And if you’re scared, breathe deeply, like we learned. »
Lily’s lips twitched. « Are you just going to stay outside? »
« I’ll be right there, » he promised.
When she finally let go of his hand, he felt as if he were losing something precious again. He stepped out into the hallway, leaned his back against the cool wall, and closed his eyes. For a few seconds, he did nothing but breathe—inhale, exhale, calmly.
Then he glanced through the window.
Inside, Lily stood frozen by the door. The other children had turned toward her, curious and smiling. A little boy waved enthusiastically, and a girl patted the empty chair beside her. Mrs. Reynolds gave Lily a gentle nod of encouragement.
And slowly, almost timidly, Lily entered.
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