It was a bright, peaceful day.
Flowers bloomed endlessly across the field, their colors swaying gently beneath a wide and welcoming sky. The air was calm, filled with the soft whisper of the wind as it moved through the grass.
In the middle of it all, a little girl sat quietly among the flowers.
She said nothing.
She simply watched the world around her—yet her eyes held a silence far deeper than her years.
The breeze brushed past her, light and gentle, as if trying to reach her… or perhaps comfort her.
For a moment, everything felt perfect.
And yet—
Something was missing.
Slowly, the girl stood.
One hand pressed softly against her chest, as if holding onto a feeling she didn't fully understand. The other lifted toward the sky, her fingers reaching out as though searching for something beyond her grasp.
Her lips parted.
"…My love… when will you come?"
Her voice was soft—almost fragile—carried gently into the air.
Tears slipped quietly down her cheeks, though she did not know why she was crying.
The wind stirred once more.
It wrapped around her, brushing through the field of flowers, as if carrying her words far away—
To somewhere…
Or someone…
Waiting.
A voice called out from behind her—soft, gentle… filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar.
"Kira…"
Her heart skipped.
The girl turned quickly, almost instinctively, her eyes lighting up as something inside her stirred—something she didn't understand, yet had been waiting for.
For a brief, fragile moment…
She smiled.
But when she looked—
It wasn't him.
Her mother stood a few steps away, her expression kind, her voice warm and ordinary.
"Shae… Shae, let's go."
The girl froze.
The smile on her lips slowly faded.
Something inside her… sank.
A quiet, aching disappointment filled her chest—so sudden, so deep, it almost hurt.
But she didn't know why.
She didn't know who she was expecting.
She didn't know why that voice… wasn't enough.
Her hand slowly fell from the sky, fingers curling slightly as if grasping for something that had already slipped away.
"…Okay," she whispered.
She took a step forward—then another—forcing her feet to move, even as her chest felt strangely heavy.
The two of them walked side by side along the quiet path, the field slowly fading behind them.
The flowers gave way to narrow dirt roads and familiar trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze.
Shae walked slightly behind her mother, her steps light—but her heart still heavy.
Her fingers brushed gently against the fabric of her dress, her mind lingering somewhere far away.
Her mother glanced at her, noticing the silence.
"Shae…" she called softly.
Shae looked up.
"Yes, Mom?"
Her mother smiled gently.
"What do you want for dinner?"
Shae hesitated for a moment, then answered quietly, her voice soft… almost fragile.
"Can we have chicken… for dinner, Mom?"
Her mother chuckled lightly.
"Of course we can," she said. "But first…"
She stopped walking.
Shae slowed, confused, and looked up at her.
Her mother leaned down slightly, her eyes warm and full of affection.
"Let's fix that beautiful face of yours."
Gently, she reached out and placed her fingers on Shae's cheeks, lifting them just a little—guiding her into a smile.
"A beautiful girl should never wear such a sad face," she said softly.
Shae blinked, caught off guard.
Then her mother leaned in closer, their faces nearly touching, her voice lowering playfully—
"Smile… and I'll make your favorite soup too."
For a moment, Shae forced a small smile.
It wasn't real—
But she tried.
Her mother watched her, then suddenly tapped her forehead lightly with a finger.
"Alright!" she said brightly. "Last one to get home washes the dishes!"
And without warning—
She turned and ran.
"M-Mom?!"
Shae froze for a split second, eyes widening in surprise.
Then—
She laughed.
A real one this time.
"Hey! That's not fair!"
She quickly ran after her, her earlier sadness fading as her feet carried her forward.
The wind rushed past her again—
But this time, it felt lighter.
Warmer.
And for that moment—
Shae smiled.
Truly.
Arriving home, Shae's mother slowed down just enough to catch her breath, laughter escaping her lips.
"Run faster, Shae!" she called, her voice cheerful yet teasing. "You know, when you were smaller, you ran faster than this!"
Shae panted heavily, her small chest rising and falling as she tried to keep up. "Mom! That's unfair! You're just letting me win before!" she protested, sticking her tongue out playfully, though a giggle escaped despite her exhaustion.
Her mother smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Shae's face. "Maybe… but today, I'm running my best. You'll have to try harder if you want to beat me!"
The two slowed their pace as the house drew near, their footsteps softening into a leisurely walk. The air was fragrant with the scent of freshly cut grass and wildflowers, the sun dipping lower and warming their backs. They chatted easily, teasing one another about past races, laughing over small stories, and sharing the quiet joy of simply being together.
From the yard, Shae's father looked up, axe in hand, as he cut wood for the fire. His eyes twinkled as he saw them approaching.
"Well, well… where did my little princess wander off to?" he called, resting the axe against the stack of firewood. "And why do you two look so tired already?"
Shae stopped in her tracks for a moment, still gasping for air. She pointed at her mother with mock indignation. "Dad! Mom cheated! She ran faster than me on purpose!"
Her mother laughed loudly, nudging Shae gently. "Cheated? I was just having fun! She's strong—look at her run!"
Shae threw her hands up in mock frustration before breaking into laughter, the tiredness fading from her face. "I still say it's unfair!" she said, shaking her head with a grin.
Finally, they reached the door, the golden light of the setting sun falling over the porch. Shae opened it and stepped inside, her mother following close behind. They left her father outside, still smiling and shaking his head, the sound of his chuckling carried softly through the yard as the door closed behind them.
Inside, the house smelled of home—warm bread, herbs from the garden, and the faint smoke of the firewood burning. Shae's laughter mixed with her mother's as they hung their coats and prepared to settle in for the evening, the outside world fading behind the safety of their home.
Inside the house, Shae's mother moved around the kitchen, pulling a roasted chicken from the oven and arranging fresh vegetables on the table. The warm aroma filled the room, making Shae's stomach growl.
"Okay, my little champion," her mother said, setting the food down with a flourish, "sit properly. No leaning, no reaching, and no complaints—you earned this meal after your… exhausting race."
Shae giggled, tugging her chair closer. "I only lost because Mom cheated!" she protested, but her smile betrayed her amusement.
Her father sat across from her, chopping vegetables for a simple salad. "Cheated or not," he said, "you've always been the fastest. I remember when you were little—barely three years old—and you'd run circles around your older cousins. Couldn't catch you if we tried!"
Shae laughed, her small hands reaching for a piece of bread. "I remember! And you would always cheer me on… even when I tripped in the mud."
Her mother shook her head, smiling fondly. "And you did fall, every single time! But you got up, always smiling."
The conversation drifted easily into memories of school days. Shae told them about her first day in elementary, how she had been shy but made friends quickly, about the little pranks she and her classmates had pulled, and about the art projects that always ended with paint on her fingers.
Her father laughed as she recounted how she once tried to make a cake for the school bake sale, only to drop it on the way. "You were so determined," he said, ruffling her hair. "Even then, you never gave up."
Dinner was filled with laughter and teasing—Shae mimicking her teachers, her mother laughing at the exaggerations, and her father joining in with his dramatic voices. Between bites, they joked about the small things, about schoolwork, chores, and the times Shae had gotten herself into minor trouble, always ending with warm reminders of how proud they were of her.
After the meal, Shae helped clear the dishes while humming a little tune, her mother drying the plates beside her. The evening slipped by gently, the sky outside turning deep orange and then fading to a calm, starry night.
Finally, it was time for bed. Shae's mother tucked her in, adjusting the blankets around her small frame, while her father leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Goodnight, little princess. Dream well," he said softly.
Shae smiled sleepily, her eyes heavy but content. "Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad," she murmured, feeling the warmth of their love wrap around her like the softest cloak.
The lights dimmed, the house settled into quiet, and Shae drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, the memories of the day—and of all her childhood joys—nestling into her dreams.