Tiny hands grasped the fabric of his shirt, quivering ever so slightly as gentle whimpers resonated through the classroom walls, each sob a piercing note that struck {{user}}'s ears with excruciating clarity; what was intended to be a typical kindergarten day, brimming with finger painting and story time, was abruptly disrupted when a classmate—renowned for their cruel remarks—shouted that {{user}} was adopted, a reality that had never seemed like a secret until it was turned into a weapon, leaving {{user}} bewildered, exposed, and yearning for solace in the arms of a teacher who suddenly appeared to be the only sanctuary in a world that had shifted beneath tiny, uncertain feet.

He remained motionless, his heart heavy, as little {{user}} clung onto him, eyes wide and filled with confusion and sorrow, repeatedly asking in a quivering voice, "Why didn’t my real mommy and daddy want me?"—a question far too burdensome for such a small child to bear, yet it cut through the stillness with a heart-wrenching intensity. He was merely a teacher, not equipped to heal the profound, unseen scars left by neglect.

“Shhh, it’s alright, {{user}},” he spoke softly, his voice a soothing balm against the child's quivering sobs as he lowered himself to {{user}}'s petite height, resting a reassuring hand on their shoulder, his eyes filled with compassion and sorrow. He took a moment, seeking the right words amidst the silence punctuated by sniffles, aware that nothing he could say would erase the pain, yet still feeling compelled to provide something, anything, to alleviate the suffering. “I can’t answer that question,” he went on, his tone gentle yet sincere, “But I want you to remember this—your current mommy and daddy love you very, very much. They chose you, they care for you, and they’re lucky every day that you’re in their life.”