Camilla's POV
The sound of tiny feet against kitchen tiles pulled my attention away from the sizzling eggs in the pan. Elsie appeared in the doorway, her sleep-tousled hair catching the morning light streaming through the window.
"Mummy," she called, her voice carrying that particular tone she used when something puzzled her.
I glanced over my shoulder while flipping the eggs, their edges turning that perfect shade of gold. "What is it, sweetheart?"
Instead of answering, she lifted her small hand, revealing a piece of paper folded with the careful precision only a young child could manage.
My brow furrowed as I studied her expression. "Is that from school?"
She shook her head, sending her curls bouncing. "Not homework."
Something in her tone made me switch off the burner immediately. The eggs could wait. I dried my hands on the dish towel and moved toward her, sensing this wasn't just another drawing or permission slip.
