Morning sunlight streamed through the classroom windows as Cora tugged at her mother's hand. Her earlier smile had vanished, replaced with a contemplative look that seemed too mature for her young face.
"Mom, can you make my favorite pasta tonight?" she asked suddenly.
Elara's heart swelled. After days of emotional distance, her daughter was finally reaching out. "Of course, sweetheart. I'll pick up the ingredients on my way home."
Cora's eyes brightened momentarily before clouding over. "Wait—I forgot. Aunt Vivi's competition is tonight. Dad said we could watch it together." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Maybe another time?"
The small spark of hope in Elara's chest flickered and died. She forced a smile, determined not to show her disappointment. "That's fine. The pasta will keep for another day."
"Sorry," Cora said, though her tone lacked genuine remorse. "Dad said Aunt Vivi might win this time."