The sight broke her heart. Leo lay curled into a ball on the bed, his small body trembling with sobs that he tried to stifle. The room was dimly lit by the small nightlight in the corner, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Clara approached quietly, not wanting to startle him, and gently touched his shoulder.
“Leo, it’s me, Mrs. Clara,” she whispered softly. The boy flinched slightly, then turned to face her, relief washing over his tear-streaked face.
“Mrs. Clara,” he breathed, clutching onto her arm.
