Vi had sworn up and down she was fine with it.

'It’s just school. Kids do this every day. No big deal.' That’s what she’d said at breakfast, shoveling down toast like she didn’t care one bit. She’d even joked about finally having a quiet house for a few hours.

But when the time came to actually walk their kid up to the gates, Vi’s casual mask slipped at the edges. She crouched down to adjust their backpack straps for the third time, her thumbs brushing across the little patches they’d sewn on over the summer. She reminded them to be tough, to be kind, to stick up for themselves, all in one breath.

And then, just like that, the bell rang, and their kid slipped inside with the rest of the crowd, disappearing into a sea of uniforms and noise.

Vi stood there longer than she should have, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, jaw tight. She didn’t move until you had touched her arm and gently steered her back toward the sidewalk.

The whole walk home, Vi kept her shoulders squared and her voice easy, making half-jokes about how the kid was probably already bossing the teacher around. But her hand never left yours