The page was covered in the name “Alessia,” written over and over in careful, unsteady script. It was clear each letter had been formed one by one, sometimes oversized, sometimes squeezed too small, all a little crooked-but you could see the earnest effort behind every stroke.

    “It still looks a little messy,” Susannah Holt admitted, scratching her head. Alessia smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair, and with Susannah’s permission, picked up the stub of a pencil that was left.

    With practiced movements, Alessia wrote out the name again, each line sharp and full of character.

    “That looks beautiful.”

    Susannah’s eyes shone with admiration. In her mind, Ms. Warren had always had the neatest handwriting of anyone she knew, but even that paled inparison to the effortless grace of Alessia’s script.

    Alessia didn’t say anything. Instead, she broke down the strokes of her name, listing them out one by one in order.

    “If you master the basics, you’ll be able to write anything beautifully one day.”

    Susannah nodded, her face full of hope. She reached for the pencil, eager to try again, but Alessia shook her head gently.

    “It’ste. If children don’t get enough sleep, they won’t grow tall.”

    “I won’t? Really?”

    Alessia nodded solemnly. “I’m a teacher, remember?”

    To a child, teachers know everything-sometimes even more than parents. And in Susannah’s eyes, Alessia was the perfect, kind angel she would trust without question.

    “Then I’ll go to bed right now.” She scrambled onto her bed, afraid that

    even a second’s dy might cost her an inch in height.

    “Not so fast-you need to dry your hair first. Sleeping with wet hair will just give you headaches.”

    “Can I just go sit in the yard for a bit? The night breeze is strong; it’ll dry quickly.”

    Susannah was about to hop out of bed, but Alessia stopped her.

    “Not that kind of drying—this kind.” Alessia picked up the hair dryer she’d brought with her.

    Susannah frowned in confusion. “What’s that?”

    “It’s called a hair dryer. After you wash your hair, you use this, and it dries in no time.”

    Susannah was amazed. She and her family always just sat outside, waiting for the wind to do the work. She’d only ever seen something simr at Ms. Warren’s house, but never up close.

    “This really dries your hair?”

    Alessia nodded, grabbing her own brush and motioning for Susannah to

    sit still.

    Because her hair had hardly ever been tended to, the ends were a tangled mess. Alessia worked a little leave-in oil through it, then patiently, gently worked out every knot.

    Her touch was so gentle that Susannah had to blink back tears. The only time she’d seen someone do this was when her mother used to care for her little sister. Her sister would sit on the porch ying with her toys while their mom sat behind her, telling stories and braiding her hair.

    “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Alessia had never really looked after a little girl before. When Susannah’s shoulders started to shake, she worried she’d pulled too hard.

    Susannah shook her head, voice trembling. “Ms. Morton, you’re so gentle… The only people who’ve ever been this gentle with me are my

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    grandma and you.”

    The little girl’s sobs tugged at Alessia’s heart, making her feel strangely heavy inside.

    “Then you have to be good to your grandma, okay?” Alessia looked down, her thoughts drifting to Cole’s father, Parrish Jade.

    They’d been gentle, too, but now she’d lost her chance to care for them.

    “I will. I’ll study hard, make lots and lots of money, and take my grandma to the city. I’ll buy her everything she wants.”

    Alessia nodded and switched on the hair dryer.

    The machine hummed softly, recing the quiet of the small room with a gentle, warm breeze. Alessia’s fingers slid through Susannah’s hair as

    she dried it.

    Gradually, Susannah’s eyelids began to droop.