The Move
Layla didn't get to pack much — just her stuffed bunny, her notebook, and the stack of letters under her mattress. Everything else was stuffed into a black trash bag, the same way kids before her and kids after her carried their lives.
Mrs. Harris didn't hug her goodbye. She just said, "Be good for them, Layla."
And that was that.
The caseworker drove her across town to a two-story brick house with perfect curtains in the windows. To anyone passing by, it looked like stability. Safety.
But as soon as Layla walked through the door, she felt it — the rules pressed down like invisible hands.
---
The Orientation
The foster mother, Ms. Carter, greeted her with a clipboard in one hand and a thin smile.
"Here, children follow the rules. Rules keep us safe. Rules keep us together," she said, her voice clipped.
She handed Layla a printed sheet:
Wake up at 6:30 sharp. Beds made. Shoes on.
No talking at meals unless spoken to.
Chores completed before free time.
No crying. If you need to cry, do it in private.
Lights out at 8:30. No exceptions.
Layla read the paper with her small hands trembling. She nodded, even though her chest felt hollow.
---
The First Dinner
The dining room was silent. Six kids sat at the long table, eating in perfect order. Forks scraped plates, but no one spoke.
When Layla hesitated, unsure if she was allowed to ask for water, Ms. Carter's sharp eyes caught her.
"If you need something, raise your hand," she said. "Don't interrupt."
Layla raised her hand slowly, her face burning. The other kids stared with blank, empty expressions — like masks they'd worn so long they forgot how to take them off.
---
The Slip
It didn't take long for Layla to break a rule.
One night, lying in bed, she sniffled quietly into her pillow. The day had been too heavy, her chest too tight. She tried to stay silent, but a sob escaped.
The door opened. Ms. Carter's shadow filled the room.
"What did I say about crying?"
Layla wiped her eyes quickly. "I'm sorry."
"No," Ms. Carter said, her voice firm. "You don't apologize. You control it. We don't have space for weakness in this house."
She left, the door clicking shut.
Layla lay frozen, the words sinking deep. Weakness. That's what love was here. That's what missing Jayden made her.
---
The Notebook
The next morning, she pulled out her notebook before school and wrote:
Rule #4: Don't cry where they can hear you.
Rule #5: Weakness is punished.
She stared at the page for a long time, then tucked it back under her pillow with the letters to Jayden.
Her mask grew thicker that day. Her smile tighter. Her silence sharper.
But inside, she whispered the only promise she still believed in:
I'll find you, Jay. Even if I have to break every rule.