The first line she drew was so light he could still read the words.

Then she pressed harder.

Beneath them, she wrote:

I WANTED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING GOOD.

Cassian read it.

“What was the good thing?”

“My drawing.”

“Would you like to show me today?”

Poppy considered him for a long moment.

Then she nodded.

She went upstairs.

This time, he waited without checking a single message.

The drawing was better than he expected.

Not polished.

Not perfect.

Alive.

The children beneath the paper stars had different expressions. One looked delighted. Another seemed alarmed. A third appeared to be singing directly into somebody else’s ear.

Cassian pointed.

“Who is this?”

“Ben.”

“Why are his eyes closed?”

“He thinks it helps.”

“And the enormous shoes?”

Poppy grimaced.

“I couldn’t fix them.”

“I like them.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“They look ready for important work.”

She laughed.

Then the laughter faded.

“I wanted you to be proud before.”

Cassian looked at the drawing.

“I’m proud now. I’m sorry I missed the moment you wanted to share it.”

She ran a finger along the paper’s edge.

“Would you have answered if it was only about that?”

He understood what she meant.

Not an emergency.

Not something worthy of interrupting adults.

Just good news.

“Yes.”

“Even if there wasn’t a problem?”

“Yes.”

Poppy sat beside him.

They looked at the drawing together.

He asked whether she wanted it framed.

She shook her head.

“It goes back to school.”

“Then may I have a photograph?”

She nodded.