“Mmm… where am I… ah!”

  Esme shot upright in Enid’s bed.

  She had overslept.

  Panic hit first, then her brain scrambled to replay last night. She had invited Enid to the tea gathering. It had gotten too late, so she slept here. She had dreamed about her mother, and Enid too.

  Once it all clicked, her face went hot.

  She had clung to Enid and begged for a bedtime story, and Enid had even kissed her goodnight.

  It was embarrassing. It was happy. It was also, annoyingly, a little thrilling.

  And then she remembered something else.

  Had she woken up this morning too?

  Esme could not piece it together. She just remembered feeling safe and warm, like someone had brushed her hair the way her mother would have.

  She touched her hair and froze.

  It felt different. Neater. Tamed.

  So it was not a dream.

  Enid had really brushed her hair, like a mother would.

  And Esme had probably, accidentally, called her “Mom.”

  Esme yanked the bedsheet around herself like armor and made a strangled, muffled sound, trying to shake the embarrassment out of her body.

  Right then, Enid came back from the dining hall, food in hand.

  And, of course, she saw Esme wrapped in a sheet, half screaming, half twisting around like a wounded gremlin, completely unaware Enid had returned.

  When Esme finally poked her head out, she saw Enid standing in the doorway, smiling at her.

  Esme immediately disappeared back under the sheet.

  “This has to be… just a dream,” she mumbled. “Ha ha… I probably woke up wrong. I’ll just go back to sleep.”

  Enid tugged her right out of her escape attempt.

  “Nice try. I brought you something to eat. Go wash up and come out. We still have that tea gathering this afternoon.”

  Esme’s brain visibly stalled.

  “Ah… ahh, I remember now. The tea gathering. I slept in your room for ages, and you even brought me food. I’m such a burden. I’m useless. All I ever do is cause trouble…”

  Enid cut her off.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “Don’t start spiraling first thing in the morning. You’ll think yourself bald.”

  Esme clapped both hands over her head and gasped in horror.

  “R really? Am I doomed to go bald while I’m still young?”

  Enid cleared her throat.

  “Joking. On my way back I stopped by your dorm and grabbed your clothes. Eat first. Then we can take our time getting ready.”

  After a quick wash, Esme sat across from Enid and picked at the lunch Enid had brought.

  The sandwich and milk were still warm, heated with a flick of fire magic.

  But from the moment she woke up, Esme had been fidgety, like she could not settle.

  “What’s wrong, Esme? Don’t like the food?”

  Esme shook her head.

  “Did you sleep badly?”

  Another shake.

  “Are you nervous about the tea gathering?”

  Esme shook her head again, then hesitated and nodded. Sort of.

  After she swallowed, she asked carefully, “Um… Enid… this morning… I didn’t do anything… weird, did I?”

  Enid answered honestly.

  “Not really. You got sleepy while I was brushing your hair and drifted back off. Does that count?”

  Esme’s face turned even more miserable.

  “So it really wasn’t a dream. Then… then…”

  She got stuck for a long time before she finally forced the words out.

  “This morning… did I… accidentally call you… Mom?”

  Oh.

  So that was it.

  Enid understood what had been eating at her.

  “Yes. You did. But I don’t think that’s strange at all.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  Esme bowed her head so fast it was almost a blur, apologizing at a speed Enid had never heard from her.

  “I didn’t mean to. I was dreaming. It’s not because… it’s not because…”

  “So you think it was wrong because you mistook me for your mother,” Enid said.

  Esme nodded, hopeless, her face already on the verge of tears.

  “I just… I really like you, Enid. I couldn’t help it. Please don’t… don’t hate me for it.”

  The tightness came back.

  Esme’s breathing started to struggle again.

  The thought of Enid hating her was terrifying.

  Being called “Mom” by a “curse child” who had killed her own mother would disgust anyone, right?

  But the scolding she expected never came.

  Instead, a pair of hands gently cradled her lowered head.

  “How could I be disgusted,” Enid said, holding her.

  “You called me that because you trust me. That means I didn’t let you down. If a student sees me the way they’d see their mother, that’s an honor. And honestly, if I had a daughter as cute as you, I’d wake up smiling every day.”

  Esme trembled. “R really? You’re not mad?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But… everyone says I’m a bad omen. They say I killed my mother.”

  Enid knelt and took Esme by the shoulders, turning her face up to meet hers.

  “Tell me something. Do you think your mother loved you?”

  “I… I don’t deserve… her love…”

  Enid cut her off again, firm but gentle.

  “I didn’t ask that. I’m asking you, do you think your mother loved her daughter? In your dreams, did she care about you and encourage you?”

  Esme’s eyes reddened.

  “Yes… in my dreams… she cared. She encouraged me…”

  “Then answer again. Did your mother love you?”

  “…Yes,” Esme whispered. “She did.”

  “Right.”

  Enid pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “The moment your mother chose to risk her life to bring you into the world, she chose to love you without conditions. Never doubt a great mother’s love for her child. Your mother even named you Esme, a name that means love.”

  That was it.

  Esme finally broke in Enid’s arms. First small sobs, then choking, then full body crying that would not stop.

  Enid only patted her back, slow and steady, and murmured, “Cry as much as you need. Let it all pour out with the tears. When you’re done, you’ll be stronger than you are now. So…”

  She hugged Esme even tighter.

  “You can cry here, in my arms. Like a child hiding in her mother’s embrace. You can cry. You can cling. You can be a kid. And I…”

  Enid lifted a hand and wiped Esme’s tears away.

  “I’ll be someone like that for you. So you don’t have to live like you did before, like a little animal left behind, scared all the time, swallowing every hurt by yourself.”

  Enid did not notice the tear at the corner of her own eye.

  It fell, soft and silent, onto Esme’s hair.

  Two abandoned, wounded souls held each other there, close enough to share warmth, close enough to heal.

  Esme cried for a long time.

  Enid stayed quiet for a long time.

  And their embrace lasted a long time too.