The only way it doesn't hurt

Part Six

(Amelia's POV)

The late afternoon sun falls softly across Rosebury, casting long shadows over the cobbled streets as I walk towards the daycare. My fingers brush against the cool stone of the building, a quiet comfort that's become familiar over the past three years. I love how the town feels like it has its own heartbeat, gentle but steady, echoing through every corner. The rhythm of the day seems to slow here, especially as the world unwinds toward evening.

I'm not in a hurry, though. There's no rush, not yet. Isla's probably still playing, lost in her little world of crayons and blocks. Her laugh—the one that carries across the room like sunshine—echoes in my mind. I can already hear it, even though I'm still yards away from the door.

When I walk through the entrance, I'm greeted by Mrs. Halley, the warm-hearted woman who runs the daycare. She has a gentle smile, always, and it's one of those smiles that makes you feel at home. "She's just finishing up, dear," she says with that softness only she can manage, like everything she says is dipped in kindness.

I nod, my heart already lightening at the thought of Isla. She's growing so quickly now. It's hard to keep up sometimes, how fast everything changes. But those days—when she's just my baby girl—feel like they belong to another life. A simpler one.

"Mumahh!" Isla's voice rings through the room before I even see her, and there she is, her little arms outstretched, her face bright with joy. She's been learning to say my name with that baby-sweet drawl, and it never fails to make my heart flutter.

I crouch down, letting her run into my arms.

"Hi, sweetheart," I whisper into her soft curls, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yes!" she says enthusiastically, holding up a piece of paper. I can see her tiny handprints on it, painted in pink and blue. "Mommy, look!"

I take the drawing from her hands and smile, admiring her work. It's chaotic, of course, like most three-year-olds' art is, but it's her chaos. Her little masterpiece.

"That's beautiful, Isla," I say softly, my voice tinged with pride. "You're so talented."

"Pretty!" she exclaims, jumping up and down as if I've just given her the greatest compliment in the world. I chuckle, lifting her up in my arms. The weight of her is familiar and comforting, and even though my arms ache after a long day, I never want to let her go.

"I'll take you home, little one," I say, looking down at her with a smile that feels like it could stretch for miles.

As I walk out of the daycare, holding her close, my thoughts drift back to my work. The gallery meeting is just around the corner, and the message I received from them still on my mind. An editorial team from London, interested in my illustrations. It feels like a dream. I've always been content in Rosebury, and yet... this—this feels like an opportunity to step into something more. But it's more complicated now, with Isla. It's always a balancing act.

I wonder if I'll ever feel ready to step into a bigger world than this quiet town, or if I'll always be content here with Isla and the people I've come to call family.

As I adjust Isla in my arms, I shake the thoughts away. No use thinking too far ahead. I have tonight to focus on, and that's enough.

As I make my way down the familiar path that leads to my house, Isla nestled in my arms, I notice a figure moving in the garden next door. Callum's tall frame is bent slightly, watering his plants with a quiet focus. I'm always amazed by how easily he blends into this town, how he's somehow become a fixture in the neighborhood, just like the old oak tree down the road. It's hard not to like Callum. He's the kind of person who makes you feel at ease, no matter what's on your mind.