So Julia chose patience.

She did not force conversation. She placed a small music box beside Luna’s bed. When it played, Luna turned her head—slightly, but undeniably. Julia read aloud from the hallway in a calm, steady voice—offering presence without demand.

Richard began to notice something he could not articulate. Julia did not fill the house with noise, but with warmth. One evening he saw Luna holding the music box gently, as though finally permitting herself to desire something.

Without ceremony, Richard summoned Julia to his study and simply said:

“Thank you.”

Weeks passed. Trust grew gradually.

Luna allowed Julia to brush her soft new hair. And in that simple act, everything shifted.

Julia was brushing gently when Luna suddenly trembled, grasped Julia’s shirt, and murmured in a dreamlike tone:

“It hurts… don’t touch me, mommy.”