The boy didn’t smile.
That was the strange part.
He only gave a small nod, as if this was exactly what he had already known would happen.
Then he reached into the basin, lifted something from the bottom, and held it in his wet hand.
The girl stared at it.
Because it wasn’t a toy.
It was a thin silver ankle clasp.
And she recognized it.

Part 2: For one second, the girl forgot the feeling in her feet.
There was only the silver clasp in the boy’s hand.
Small. Delicate. Familiar.
Not because she had worn it the day before.
But because she had worn it the day everything changed.
Her lips parted.
“That was mine,” she whispered.
The boy looked at her calmly. “I know.”
Behind them, her father was closer now, footsteps cutting through the grass, panic written across his face. But the children still held the center of the moment.
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