The unfolding scene resembled a calamity of the highest order, a tableau of chaos and discord.

Within the confines of the daycare, a disarray reigned supreme. The once pristine floors now bore the marks of spilled drinks and the scattered remnants of playtime.

Books, once neatly arranged, now lay desecrated, their spines bent and pages torn, revealing the sorry state of their innards. The majority of the children, in a collective display of discontent, congregated in a small cluster, their cries and pouts echoing off the walls in an unyielding chorus.

At the epicenter of this pandemonium sat Tighnari, his demeanor a blend of desolation and defiance. Sequestered in a corner, he sought solace in isolation, his actions seemingly orchestrated for maximum dramatic impact.

With eyes glistening with unshed tears, he stared out the window, his hands pressed firmly against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the cacophony around him. It was as if he sought refuge in the silence of his own thoughts, oblivious to the turmoil.

A mere fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds prior—every second etched into memory—the daycare had hummed with the harmonious rhythm of structured activity.

Volunteers and paid staff alike had endeavored to entertain and engage the children, providing respite for parents ensnared by the demands of daily life. Tighnari, like many others, had eagerly embraced the distractions offered.

He had singled you out, as he often did, to guide him through his adventures in the make-believe forest. His knowledge, albeit surprising for his age, had always charmed you, as he pointed out the nuances of nature with an enthusiasm that was infectious.

Despite the occasional inconvenience, you had acquiesced to his whims with minimal complaint.

However, the tranquility shattered when Tighnari overheard a conversation between you and a fellow employee—a grievance aired against his penchant for elaborate nature excursions. In that moment, his insecurities surfaced, laid bare for all to see.

“Go away.”