HAPPINESS WE SEEK FOR

Chapter 13

It had been a month since everyone agreed it was time for the children to return to physical school. The decision hadn't been made lightly; hours of research had gone into finding the right institution, weighing options, and poring over online reviews. St. Fleur Academy stood out—a prestigious school with glowing recommendations from parents and alumni alike. It seemed like the perfect fit, a promising opportunity for both the kids and the parents.

The parents exchanged hopeful looks over video calls, reassuring one another that this was the right step. The school's stellar reputation was a good sign—another reason to move forward. It wasn't just about academics, either; it was about giving their children the chance to rebuild, to reconnect with a life they had all been distant from for too long.

The kids talked about the decision the next day when they met up, some of them huddled on Isa's front porch, others texting between meetups. It was the topic of every conversation for days—how strange it would be, walking through hallways again, sitting in classrooms, hearing the hum of voices in a place that wasn't a screen. For some, the idea felt like a lifeline, a way to escape the shadow of their recent past. For others, it was nerve-wracking.

They told one another how they found out—parents announcing it during dinners, casual mentions thrown in while watching TV, and quiet talks late at night. The news had sparked mixed feelings. There was excitement, yes, but also unease. Most of them hadn't stepped inside a school for years. Isa joked it would be like trying to ride a bike after forgetting how, only this time, with teachers watching. Cardan rolled his eyes, but even he had to admit he was a little rusty when it came to dealing with crowds.

And now, after weeks of preparation, the day has finally arrived.

The morning of the tour,

Elia woke up to the soft buzz of her phone on the nightstand. A group message from Isa, Maggie, and Cardan pinged on the screen—last-minute jokes about getting lost on campus, complaints about uniforms, and Isa's promise to sneak snacks in his jacket. Elia smiled faintly, pulling the covers tighter around her for a moment longer.

But the smile didn't stay.

As the early morning light filtered through her bedroom window, the memories stirred—the school they were about to visit wasn't just any school. It was Jamie's school.

The weight of that realization settled on her chest, heavy and cold. Jamie Clarke, Maggie's little brother and her former racing partner, had walked those very hallways, sat in those classrooms, and lived that life. That was Jamie's world, his place. And now it is gone.

Before Elia could sink too deeply into the sorrow that tugged at her thoughts, Mama came to wake her, just as she did every morning. The soft sound of footsteps against the hardwood floor reached Elia's ears before the familiar scent of lavender filled the room.

Lizzie moved with the kind of care that only a mother has—quiet, deliberate. She sat gently on the edge of Elia's bed, her hand gliding tenderly over Elia's hair, smoothing it in soft, rhythmic strokes. It was such a small, intimate gesture, but one that never failed to pull at something deep inside Elia's chest. Her heart squeezed at the warmth of it, a comfort she wasn't always used to but cherished with everything she had now.

"Good morning, sweet girl, are you sleeping well?" Lizzie whispered, her voice soft and steady, like sunlight filtering through a clouded sky. She leaned down, pressing a light kiss to Elia's forehead—a morning ritual that was as much for Lizzie as it was for her daughter.

Elia offered a faint smile and gave a small nod, though her thoughts were still tangled in the weight of memories.

Lizzie's sharp gaze didn't miss the shadow in Elia's eyes. She cupped her daughter's cheek with both hands, her thumbs brushing over Elia's skin in a soothing motion. "Yeah? Then why the sad face, baby?" she asked gently, careful not to press too hard, knowing how delicate Elia's emotions could be on mornings like this.