Just then, his assistant returned carrying a warm paper bag. The smell of fresh brioche filled the air.
Daniel turned to leave.
But Ethan began to struggle in his arms.
Not his usual quiet resistance — this was desperate. Silent sobs, mouth open in a scream that made no sound. He pointed frantically at the girl.
“Ethan, stop,” Daniel ordered.
But the boy twisted and cried harder, eyes flooded with panic.
Daniel hesitated.
It’s just bread, a small voice inside him whispered. What do you have to lose?
With irritation, he snatched the bag from his assistant and tossed it toward the girl’s feet.
“There. Take it. And leave us alone.”
She calmly picked it up.
Instead of devouring it, she tore a warm roll in half.
She ate one piece slowly.
Then she stepped toward Ethan and held out the other half.
“Don’t,” Daniel warned. “Don’t give him anything.”
“It’s bread,” she said simply. “Bread feeds when it’s shared.”
Ethan reached out and grabbed it.
He took a bite.
Daniel held his breath.
The city noise seemed to fade.
The girl placed her small hand over Ethan’s chest.
“You’re not afraid anymore,” she whispered. “Tell him.”
A strange sound escaped Ethan’s throat — rough, shaky.
Then, clear as glass:
“Da… dad.”