The morning sun poured through the tall windows of the Moretti estate, filling the dining room with warm light. Amara sat at the head of the table, happily munching on a slice of toast, completely oblivious to the weighty decision being discussed between her parents.
“I’ve been thinking,” Isla began, stirring her tea absentmindedly. “It’s time Amara started going to a play school.”
Dante froze, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Play school?”
“Yes,” Isla said, her voice firm but gentle. “She’s at the perfect age to start. It’ll help her socialize, make friends, and learn new things.”
Dante frowned, placing his cup down. “She’s only three, Isla. She’s too young for school. She doesn’t need strangers teaching her things when she has us.”
“Dante,” Isla said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “We can’t shelter her forever. She needs to experience the world outside these walls.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The world outside these walls is dangerous. You know that better than anyone. How can I trust anyone else to keep her safe?”
“She won’t be alone,” Isla reassured him. “I’ll visit the school myself, meet the teachers, and ensure it’s the best environment for her. We can take all the necessary precautions.”
Dante looked over at Amara, who was now using her toast to draw patterns in the leftover jam on her plate. His heart ached at the thought of letting her out of his sight.
“Amara,” he called, his voice softening. “Do you want to go to school?”
The little girl looked up, her big brown eyes wide with curiosity. “School? What’s school, Papa?”
“It’s a place where you’ll play with other kids your age and learn fun things,” Isla explained with a smile.
Amara’s face lit up. “I get to play with new friends? Can I take my teddy bear too?”
Isla laughed, her heart warming at her daughter’s enthusiasm. “Of course, sweetheart. Teddy can come with you.”
Dante groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he relented, though his tone was reluctant. “But I want to personally oversee everything. The school, the staff, the security-everything.”
“Agreed,” Isla said, her eyes sparkling with triumph.
—
A week later, the family found themselves standing in front of “Little Steps Academy,” a prestigious play school nestled in a quiet part of town. The cheerful building was painted in bright colors, with a playground full of slides, swings, and tiny tricycles visible from the entrance.
Amara clung to Isla’s hand, her other arm wrapped tightly around her beloved teddy bear. Dante stood behind them, his posture tense as he scanned the area like a hawk.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked Isla for the tenth time that morning.
“Yes, Dante,” Isla replied patiently. “Look at how happy the other kids are. Amara will love it here.”
They were greeted by Ms. Marlowe, the headmistress, who had a kind smile and an air of warmth that instantly put Isla at ease. Dante, however, remained wary, his gaze never leaving the woman as she explained the school’s curriculum and safety measures.
“We prioritize each child’s safety and comfort,” Ms. Marlowe assured them. “You’re welcome to stay nearby during the first few days until Amara feels more comfortable.”
Dante nodded curtly. “We’ll take you up on that offer.”
—
Inside the classroom, Amara’s eyes grew wide as she took in the colorful decorations, the shelves lined with toys, and the tiny tables and chairs. A group of children was already playing with blocks in one corner, their laughter filling the room.
“Amara, this is your classroom,” Isla said, crouching down to her daughter’s level. “Doesn’t it look fun?”
Amara nodded slowly, her grip on Isla’s hand loosening. “Can I play with them?” she asked, pointing at the children.
“Of course,” Isla said, her voice encouraging.
A little boy with messy hair noticed Amara and walked over, holding out a red block. “Hi! Want to build a tower with me?”
Amara looked at Isla for reassurance, and when her mother nodded, she let go of her hand and took the block. “Okay!”
Dante watched the interaction from the doorway, his chest tightening as he saw his little girl laugh and play with the other children. She looked so small, so innocent, and he couldn’t shake the fear that something might go wrong.
“She’ll be fine,” Isla whispered, slipping her hand into his.
“I know,” he replied, though his tone lacked conviction.
—
Back at home that afternoon, Dante paced the living room while Isla prepared lunch.
“You’ve been restless ever since we left the school,” Isla observed, setting plates on the table. “What’s on your mind?”
“I can’t help it,” he admitted, stopping to lean against the counter. “What if something happens? What if she doesn’t like it? What if-”
“Dante,” Isla interrupted gently, walking over to him. She placed her hands on his chest, grounding him. “Nothing will happen. She’s safe. And she was smiling when we left, wasn’t she?”
He nodded, his hands coming up to rest on her waist. “She was. But I can’t turn off this need to protect her.”
“That’s what makes you a great father,” Isla said, her voice soft. “But part of being a parent is learning to let go, even if it’s just a little. Amara needs this, and so do we.”
Dante sighed, pulling her into a hug. “You’re right. I just need to get used to the idea.”
“You will,” she said, resting her head against his chest. “And who knows? Maybe Amara will come home with a story so cute, you’ll forget all your worries.”
—
Later that afternoon, they picked Amara up from school. She came running toward them, her face glowing with excitement.
“Mama! Papa!” she cried, flinging herself into Dante’s arms.
“How was your day, sweetheart?” Isla asked, smiling.
“It was the best!” Amara exclaimed. “I made a friend! His name is Tommy, and we built the tallest tower ever!”
Dante couldn’t help but smile, his earlier fears easing at the sight of his daughter’s happiness. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes! And Ms. Marlowe read us a story about a bunny. Can we go back tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Isla said, laughing.
As they drove home, Amara chattered non-stop about her day, her joy filling the car. Dante glanced at Isla, his heart swelling with gratitude.
“You were right,” he admitted quietly.
“I usually am,” she teased, winking at him.
For the first time, Dante allowed himself to relax, knowing that his little girl was taking her first steps into the world-and that she was going to be just fine.