"𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑"

III

Morana's point of view:

The day of departure had finally arrived, and St. Claire's Orphanage was in chaos. Actual chaos. Kids were running around like caffeinated squirrels, tripping over luggage, yelling about lost socks, and generally making sure no one could hear themselves think. I stood on the steps, suitcase in hand, watching the mayhem unfold with all the enthusiasm of someone about to get a root canal.

"Morana!" Sister Clarisse's voice cut through the noise like a whip. "Help make sure everyone gets their bags on the bus!"

"Sure, because yelling at hyperactive twelve-year-olds sounds like exactly how I want to spend my last day here," I muttered under my breath.

But I did it anyway because, apparently, I'm a sucker for punishment.

Annie, the self-appointed chaos gremlin of St. Claire's, was in the middle of shoving Henry's toothbrush into someone else's backpack when I found her.

"Annie," I said, arms crossed. "Do I even need to ask what you're doing?"

"Helping," she said, all wide-eyed innocence.

"By stealing people's hygiene products?"

She shrugged, clearly unbothered. "He deserved it."

I snatched the toothbrush out of her hand and pointed toward the bus. "Get on before Sister Clarisse starts using that clipboard as a weapon."

Annie rolled her eyes but obeyed, skipping off like she hadn't just caused minor havoc.

As I moved through the crowd of kids, herding them toward the bus like some kind of underpaid sheepdog, I spotted Lola perched on the bench near the steps. She was watching everything with her usual air of superiority, like the chaos of departure day was beneath her.

"Must be nice being you," I muttered as I approached, scooping her into my arms.

She let out a low purr, her amber eyes narrowing slightly.

"I know," I said, scratching behind her ears. "I'm not thrilled about it either."

I carried her to the bus, where Sister Clarisse was trying—and failing—to organize the luggage situation.

"Morana, could you please—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," I cut in, shoving my suitcase into the cargo hold.

Once everything was loaded, I climbed onto the bus with Lola nestled in my arms. The kids were already scrambling for seats, arguing over who got the window. I found an empty spot near the back and slid in, setting Lola's carrier on the seat beside me.

The engine roared to life, and the bus pulled away from St. Claire's. I didn't look back. I told myself it didn't matter—this place wasn't home. It never had been. But as the orphanage faded into the distance, I felt a knot tighten in my chest.

I rested my head against the window, watching the city blur past.

Italy. I still couldn't wrap my head around it. A whole new country, a whole new orphanage, a whole new batch of strangers to figure out. And me? I was supposed to just... slot into this new life like I wasn't already a half-broken puzzle piece.

The kids around me were buzzing with excitement, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of "Do you think they have a pool?" and "I hope we get pizza every day!"

I didn't join in. It wasn't that I didn't care—I did, in my own way—but the idea of starting over felt too big to put into words.

Lola let out a soft meow, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced down at her carrier and opened the little mesh door just enough to scratch behind her ears.

"At least I've got you," I murmured.

The bus ride to the airport dragged on, the excitement from the younger kids only intensifying as we got closer. By the time we pulled up to the terminal, I was half-convinced someone was going to spontaneously combust from sheer enthusiasm.

The airport itself was chaos on steroids. Trying to keep twenty kids together through security was like herding cats—except Lola was far too dignified to associate with this mess.

I stayed near the back of the group, clutching Lola's carrier like a lifeline. The noise, the crowds, the sheer bigness of it all—it was overwhelming. But I kept moving.

"Morana, over here!" Sister Clarisse waved me toward the gate, her clipboard still clutched like it held the meaning of life.

I followed, feeling like I was moving through molasses. Every step brought me closer to the plane, closer to Italy, closer to... whatever was waiting on the other side.

When I finally sank into my seat on the plane, I let out a long breath. Lola was on my lap, her carrier open just enough for her to poke her head out and glare at me.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, scratching her chin. "This wasn't my idea."

The engines roared, and the plane began to taxi down the runway. I stared out the window, watching as Los Angeles disappeared beneath us.

Italy. A new orphanage. New faces. New rules.

I didn't know what to expect, and that terrified me. But as Lola purred softly in my lap, her warmth grounding me, I reminded myself of one thing: I'd made it through worse.

Whatever was waiting in Italy, I'd face it. One step at a time.

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Sending love,
-M