ELODIE’S POV~
The kite stall was a riot of colors.
Dragons. Butterflies. Eagles with wingspans wider than my arms. Cartoon characters I vaguely recognized from shows Liora used to watch. Back when she still let sit with her. Back when Saturday mornings ant pancakes and cartoons and a little girl curled against my side.
I ran my fingers over a simple red kite, trying to decide if I was really about to do this.
Buy a kite. Fly it alone. In a park full of families.
God. How pathetic could one person get?
But the alternative was leaving. Going back to the empty apartnt. Sitting in silence while my mind replayed every mont from the equestrian club, about Liora’s arms around Sienna’s leg, Dante’s soft expression, the three of them riding off together like I’d never existed.
At least here, there was noise here. So distraction.
I was reaching for the red kite when sothing small and warm wrapped around my finger.
It was a tiny, soft hand actually, tugging gently.
"Auntie."
I looked down.
Big black eyes stared up at . Round cheeks. Pigtails slightly lopsided, like soone had tried their best but didn’t quite have the knack for it.
My heart stuttered.
"Daisy?"
She nodded sweetly, her little fingers still curled around mine like she had no intention of letting go.
I hadn’t expected to see her here. Hadn’t expected to see anyone I knew. This was supposed to be anonymous, just and a park full of strangers.
"Daisy—"
"You ca here to have fun too?"
I looked up.
Harry Becker stood a few feet away, tall and quiet, sothing uncertain flickering across his face. He’d stopped mid-stride when he saw , like he wasn’t sure if he should approach or give space.
"Mm." I managed a small nod.
He walked closer, with his hands, casually in his pockets. "Did you bring Liora along?"
The question was a normal one. The kind of thing anyone would ask.
It shouldn’t have hurt.
I lowered my eyes, kept my voice light. Like it didn’t matter at all.
"No. I ca by myself."
Silence fell.
I could feel him processing that. Could feel the unasked questions hovering in the air between us. Why alone? Where’s your daughter? What happened?
He didn’t ask any of them.
Thank God.
I should leave.
That was the smart thing to do. The safe thing. We weren’t friends, Harry and I. We’d crossed paths a few tis because of strange coincidences, nothing more.
We were acquaintances at best. Strangers who happened to keep running into each other.
I didn’t owe him a conversation. Didn’t owe him an explanation for why I was standing in a park alone on a Saturday afternoon with shadows under my eyes and a heaviness I couldn’t quite hide.
I opened my mouth to make an excuse, ‘nice seeing you, I should go, had things to do’ when Daisy tugged my finger again.
"Auntie."
I looked down at her.
"Let’s fly a kite together."
Her voice was so hopeful. Like flying a kite with was the best thing she could possibly imagine doing with her afternoon.
When was the last ti anyone had looked at like that?
"No, Auntie still has so things to do."
The words ca out automatically. But I knew how distant it sounded.
Daisy’s face fell.
Not dramatically. She didn’t cry or throw a fit. Just that quiet, devastating disappointnt that children wore so openly, without any of the masks adults learned to hide behind.
"Oh..."
She let go of my finger.
And I felt like the worst person in the world.
"Let’s do it together."
Harry’s voice was low with no pressure behind it.
I looked at him.
"It’s just the two of us anyway," he said, shrugging slightly. Then, as if he could read every hesitation running through my mind, he added, "I’ll watch from the side and won’t disturb you. You can just think of it as having one more playmate for Daisy."
I should say no.
I should make an excuse and leave and go back to being alone because that was easier.
But Daisy was looking up at again, hope creeping back into those big black eyes.
And the truth was... I really didn’t want to be alone right now.
I really, really didn’t.
"Okay," I heard myself say.
Daisy’s whole face lit up.
We then picked a blue butterfly kite.
Daisy spotted it imdiately, bouncing on her toes, pointing with barely contained excitent. "That one! The blue one! Auntie, look, it’s so pretty!"
It was pretty with delicate paper wings in shades of cerulean and sapphire, painted with patterns that caught the light.
"You like butterflies?" I asked her.
She nodded vigorously. "They’re my favorite. Uncle Harry says butterflies an good luck."
I glanced at Harry, who was paying for the kite before I could reach for my wallet.
"It’s true," he said, catching my look. "In so cultures, anyway."
I didn’t argue about the paynt. Didn’t have the energy for that particular dance.
We carried the kite to the open field, Daisy kept chattering the whole way about butterflies she’d seen, butterflies she wanted to see, a butterfly garden her uncle had promised to take her to soday.
Her warm voice did nothing but kept smiling as well.
_____________
I’d flown plenty of kites before.
When Liora was younger, we used to co to parks like this all the ti. I’d taught her how to read the wind, how to hold the string, how to run at just the right mont to catch the lift. She’d laughed every ti the kite soared, her little face tilted toward the sky, pure wonder in her eyes.
I was good at this. Experienced.
But the butterfly kite was bigger than I’d realized, and Daisy was so small. Her arms weren’t strong enough to handle the pull, and my own arms were tired from a day of pretending to be fine.
The kite caught the wind, jerked upward and imdiately dove toward the ground.
"Pull, Daisy! Pull the string!"
She yanked with all her might, but the physics weren’t on our side. The butterfly crashed into the grass, the wings crumpling.
Daisy’s lower lip trembled.
"It’s okay," I said quickly, jogging over to scoop up the kite. "It happens. We just need to try again."
We tried again.
And again.
The damn kite kept fighting us. Kept dipping and diving and refusing to stay in the air for more than a few seconds. Wind was fine. Technique was fine. It was just too big, and we were struggling, and I was starting to feel that familiar frustration building in my chest when a shadow fell over us.
Harry didn’t ask permission. Didn’t wait for an invitation. Just stepped up beside , took the kite from my hands, and started adjusting sothing on the fra.
"Bridle’s off," he murmured, his fingers working efficiently. "That’s why it keeps nosing down."
I watched him work. His hands were steady. The hands of soone who knew what they were doing.
A few more adjustnts then he looked at Daisy. "Ready?"
She grabbed the spool with both hands, determination replacing disappointnt.
"Ready!"
This ti, when we launched it, Harry ran with us. His long legs covered ground easily, one hand on the kite fra, steadying it until the wind caught properly.
And then it flew.
The blue butterfly soared upward, climbing higher and higher, wings catching the golden afternoon light until it glowed against the endless blue sky.
Daisy shrieked. "It’s flying! Auntie, look! LOOK!"
I looked.
And sothing in my chest cracked open.
Not pain this ti. Sothing else. Sothing lighter.
Daisy was jumping up and down, the string clutched in her tiny fists, her whole face radiant with joy. The kite danced above us, blue wings fluttering, free and beautiful and alive.
I smiled a real smile.
The kind I’d forgotten I was capable of.
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