I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 456 - 455 Departure

"...a little," he admitted.

That was all it took.

Alina’s heart shattered and bloomed at the same time. She lifted his hands carefully and pressed the softest kiss to each scraped palm, her touch reverent and protective, as if sealing away the pain with nothing but care.

Later, the soft light of the living room fell on a different scene. Georgia was on the couch with Lucien. A small white box with a red cross was open beside her. In it were useful, gentle things: clean cloths, a bottle that smelled clean and sharp, rolls of white bandages.

Lucien sat very straight, like a little soldier. He did not fidget. He did not cry. He gave his hands to Georgia and let her work. She took a cloth, warm with water, and began to clean his scraped palms. He only winced, a tiny flutter at the corner of his eye. But Georgia saw it. She saw everything.

"You’re doing really well," she said, her voice a smooth river stone. "Braver than most grown-ups I know."

Lucien nodded. It was a solemn nod. He treated her kind words like a serious job he had been given. "It doesn’t hurt much anymore," he told her. But his fingers curled in, just a little, when she pressed the tape to hold the bandage. He was being brave, and his body was telling its own true story.

Across from them, on a small stool he had dragged right up close, stood Sable. He was not sitting. He was standing at his post, like a tiny guard in pajamas. His whole face was focused, his eyebrows pulled together in a fierce line. Every few seconds, he leaned his whole body forward, peering at his brother’s hands. He was looking for clues, for any sign of change, for any secret hurt he might have missed.

"Is it okay now?" he whispered. It was the third time he had asked. He whispered because he believed some hurts could be scared by loud noises.

Georgia smiled at him, a sun-break in a cloudy sky. "It’s okay. See? All clean."

Sable took this news seriously. He considered it. Then, with fingers as careful as a butterfly’s landing, he reached out and touched the very edge of the white bandage. He looked straight at Lucien, his eyes wide and full of a mighty promise. "If it hurts again," he said, every word solid and true, "you tell me. I will call Mom. Or Dad. Or both."

Lucien looked at his little brother. And something in his own steady gaze melted, just at the edges. A little warmth seeped through. "...Okay," he said. And this time, the word was not hard like a stone. It was soft, like a sigh of relief. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

When Georgia was done, she gave Lucien’s bandaged hands one last, gentle squeeze. "There. All done."

Alina watched from the doorway. A feeling filled her chest, so big and so sweet it was almost hard to breathe. It was a quiet, overwhelming tenderness. Dante stood beside her, a silent mountain of a man. He said nothing, but his eyes were watchful, missing nothing.

As soon as the couch was free, Sable climbed up. He did not sit separately. He pressed his whole side against Lucien, shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg. He was making himself a living wall, a warm, small shield.

"You can rest now," Sable declared, his voice firm with duty. "I will watch."

Lucien let out a tiny puff of air, almost a laugh. "You don’t need to."

"I want to," Sable replied, and there was no arguing with that truth. He leaned his head, with its soft hair, against Lucien’s arm.

And Lucien, the brave and serious one, did not push him away. He simply shifted, just a little, so his little brother could lean more comfortably. He rested his bandaged hands in his lap, safe. And Sable stayed there, a faithful sentinel. Every few minutes, his eyes would drift down to check the white bandages, to make sure his brother was all right. It was, to him, the most important job in the world.

Two days are not a long time. But these two days had been full—full of quiet talks, of shared meals, of a new kind of peace. And so they passed far too quickly, slipping away like sand through open fingers, like a sigh you only hear after it is gone.

The morning of leaving was soft and hushed. The house itself felt different, wrapped in a blanket of quiet sadness that everyone felt but no one named.

Dante was by the Amelia room door. He was ready, his coat on, filling the space with his presence even as he prepared to empty it. "I have work to do," he said, his voice calm as a deep lake. But if you listened closely, you could hear the faintest ripple of regret underneath. "Otherwise... I would have loved staying here longer." His eyes found Alina.

Alina’s heart pressed hard against her ribs, a dull, aching thing. But she stood straight. She nodded. "I know," she said softly. And she did know. Knowing did not make the hollow feeling in her stomach go away.

From her bed, Amelia watched. Her smile was gentle and knowing, a little sad around the edges but warm in the middle. "You take care of yourself," she said, her voice full of a kindness that already called him family. "And come back as soon as you can."

Aunt Lyla stood with her hands twisted together. "It feels too quiet already," she said, and she tried to smile through the words. "You’re always welcome here. Anytime."

Dante bent his head to her. "Thank you. For everything."

Then he lowered himself, bending his tall frame down, down to the world of small boys. Sable was already holding onto Lucien’s sleeve, his eyes wide and glittering, trying so hard to be a brave statue. Dante put one of his large, careful hands on each of their heads. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to each small forehead.

"Be good," he told them, his voice a low rumble just for them.