Anya’s progress was slow but steady after that day. Her eyes tracked movement, and sometimes, a small, genuine smile touched her lips. Leo became her constant companion, bringing her books, toys, and small objects from the garden, maintaining his simple, playful, pressure-free connection.
One warm afternoon by the pool, Leo brought a small yellow rubber duck he’d found in a cupboard. He squeezed it; it let out a high-pitched squeak. “Quack!” he said, smiling at Anya. She stared at the toy, her eyes fixed. Leo repeated the word, making a funny face.
Then, faint and shaky, a sound came from Anya’s lips. It was broken, a mere syllable, but it was there.
Eleanor, who had been watching from the garden, ran towards them. Leo, excited, repeated, “Duck! Duck!”
Anya’s lips trembled again, and this time the sound was louder, clearer. “Duck.”