And the glow inside the tree dimmed.
Elara exhaled, a weight lifting from her chest—not because it had been taken, but because it had been shared.
“Let’s go home,” she said.
The girls nodded.
As they walked away, the fir tree stood silent once more, its hollow dark and empty.
It would remain there, as it always had.
A reminder.
That while it may be tempting to escape pain, the things we carry—both heavy and light—are what make us whole.
Epilogue
In time, the cottage felt warmer.
Elara began to laugh again—not as often as before, but enough that the sound no longer felt foreign.
