Sophia
Clara ran ahead of me down the wing's main corridor, her small sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, chasing the light that spilled warm and golden across the tiles from the courtyard windows.
"Careful, sweetheart," I called, though I was smiling, watching her stop at the curve in the hallway exactly where Mark had once suggested we bend the corridor, all those years ago, over cold Thai food in a dark office. The reveal still worked exactly the way we'd designed it, the courtyard opening up all at once, drawing her forward with a small gasp of delight the way it drew every child who walked this hall.
"Mommy, look! The sky!" Clara pointed up at the painted ceiling glowing soft blue and gold overhead, exactly as it had the day it was finished, exactly as it had the night M
