But that wasn’t what shocked him.
She was teaching his daughter.
Sophie held a notebook, focused as the girl used a stick to draw numbers and shapes on the ground, explaining them with excitement.
Then Sophie laughed. Daniel’s chest tightened. He hadn’t heard that sound in a long time.
“Stop the car,” he said.
The driver hesitated. “Sir?”
“Now.” Daniel stepped out quietly.
“…so if you move the number here,” the girl said, pointing at the pavement, “the answer changes. Math is like solving a puzzle. You just have to find the pattern.”
Sophie leaned in, eyes lighting up. “Oh! That’s why I kept getting it wrong!”
Daniel stopped, unable to move.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Sophie so animated, so engaged. She was always quiet, always reserved. The grief from her mother’s death had put a shadow over her life—her smile had been rare, her laughter even rarer. But now, here she was, laughing again, her mind actively engaged in something that brought her joy. And it wasn’t because of anything he had done.
