She was teaching his daughter.
Sophie held a notebook, focused as the girl used a stick to draw numbers and shapes on the ground, explaining them with excitement.
Then Sophie laughed. Daniel’s chest tightened. He hadn’t heard that sound in a long time.
“Stop the car,” he said.
The driver hesitated. “Sir?”
“Now.” Daniel stepped out quietly.
“…so if you move the number here,” the girl said, pointing at the pavement, “the answer changes. Math is like solving a puzzle. You just have to find the pattern.”
Sophie leaned in, eyes lighting up. “Oh! That’s why I kept getting it wrong!”
Daniel stopped, unable to move.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Sophie so animated, so engaged. She was always quiet, always reserved. The grief from her mother’s death had put a shadow over her life—her smile had been rare, her laughter even rarer. But now, here she was, laughing again, her mind actively engaged in something that brought her joy. And it wasn’t because of anything he had done.
He watched the girl continue her impromptu lesson, her voice animated, yet kind and patient. The energy she exuded was something he hadn’t seen in anyone for a long time. Her spirit was free, despite everything she must have been through. And Sophie, his little girl, was learning more than just math.
“How long have you been doing this?” Daniel asked, stepping closer.
The girl turned to him, startled at the sudden intrusion, but her gaze softened as she recognized the concern in his voice. “A while,” she said. “I’ve been teaching Sophie for the past couple of weeks, when I can. I like helping her, and she’s really smart.”
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