The Question That No Adult Dared to Ask
Then, a small voice broke the silence. “Why are you crying at your party?”
Alexander looked up. A little girl, no more than three, stood before him. Big, curious eyes. A red dress. No pity. No judgment. Just pure innocence.
“Why?” she asked again. Her name was Aurora.
Her mother rushed over, horrified. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “She just wandered off—”
But Alexander wasn’t listening. For the first time that day, someone wasn’t looking at him with discomfort. They were simply… talking to him.
“What’s your name?” Alexander asked the child.
“Aurora,” she said proudly.
“And you?” he asked the woman.
“Valentina,” she replied, her voice steady, without hesitation or awkwardness. No forced sympathy. She looked at Alexander as if he were just a man sitting in front of her.
