Morning arrived with too much noise.
The garden was already awake when Elara stepped out. Sound crossed the air from side to side, never settling anywhere. Feet striking hard. Voices colliding. The ball bouncing wrong.
She went to the wall's corner, as always.
Her body stopped there before anyone needed to look. Wet grass soaked the sole of her foot fast. She rubbed one foot against the other, feeling a brief shiver climb her leg.
The noise swelled all at once.
A dry stumble. A cry too loud. Then another sound, heavier, like something dropping hard on the ground.
"Careful!"
Elara turned her face.
A child sat in the grass, knee bent, a hand gripping the leg. Face folded tight. Foot shaking. The ball had stopped too close.
Red appeared fast.
Dark first. Then brighter. Sliding over pale skin, following the line of bone.
The tutors ran.
Skirts lifting slightly. Quick steps. A cloth appearing from nowhere.
Someone knelt. Another lifted the child with too much care.
"Easy, easy…"
The cloth pressed down.
Red spread.
Elara held her breath.
Her chest went rigid, as if it had forgotten how to rise and fall. Her throat closed on its own. She didn't blink.
The cloth stayed red.
It didn't shine.
Nothing happened beyond what always happened.
The child cried loud now. The sound scraped the air. The knee was covered. The child was carried inside. The garden slowly began to move again, as if something held tight had been released.
Elara let the air out carefully.
Her shoulders lowered just a little.
She looked at her own knee.
Smooth skin. No mark. Nothing.
Her finger moved without asking. Pressed. Released. Pressed again. Nothing answered.
She kept looking at the spot where the child had fallen.
Flattened grass remained there, a short path ending in a dark stain.
The cloth had taken almost everything, but not the first red. The first red had stayed a second longer.
And one second, there, was too long.
Her body made a small adjustment, nearly invisible. One foot back. One shoulder closer to the wall. As if the corner had shrunk and she needed to fit again.
The tutors returned to their places.
But it wasn't the same.
Their eyes passed over Elara more often. Didn't stop. Passed. Came back. Passed again.
Elara followed one of them with her gaze as she came closer. The tutor carried the folded cloth, the stain hidden inside.
The question rose on its own, without rehearsal. It came out low, but whole.
"Was it because of that day?"
The tutor didn't answer.
Not quickly. Not slowly.
She stopped where she stood. The cloth still in her hand. Her eyes fixed on a place behind Elara, as if looking at a point that wasn't in the garden.
Silence stretched.
Too long to fit inside a "no."
The tutor drew a deep breath. Chest up, down. She turned slightly, nodding her head toward the other side.
"Snack will get cold."
Her voice sounded too normal.
She walked away right after, without looking back, as if the grass had called her.
Elara didn't call after her.
She stayed where she was.
The silence kept moving inside her, even after the tutor left.
The ball rolled close. Didn't touch.
A child ran after it and slowed mid-way. As if remembering something. Turned. Went around another way.
Elara sat on the ground.
She picked up a small stick. Drew a line in the dirt. Then another. Crossed them without meaning to. Wiped them away with her palm.
The marks vanished.
She looked at her knee again, as if it had answered. It hadn't.
The day was still bright.
The sun still struck the stone path and sent back a glare that hurt the eyes. The garden kept working—running, laughter, ball—but now everything curved before reaching her.
Elara held the stick for too long.
That red was gone.
But it had left a new way everyone looked.
And "that day"—without words, without raised voices—kept giving orders.