After that, all of us began working together. Sweaters were carefully cut and sorted by size, blankets were tied and stacked neatly, every item arranged as if it carried a small story of its own. The names of the poorest children were separated and checked again and again—Zara, the teachers, everyone working side by side, ensuring not a single detail was overlooked.
When the distribution ended, the headmaster placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and said with a slight bow, "Your speech would put many adults to shame. Your heart is truly in the right place. And that honesty within you—it shows." His words carried a warmth that lingered longer than applause.
Zara then went around, bidding farewell to the parents and children one by one. Everyone waved back at her—the girl who had carried this entire day forward. Mr. Henry looked at me calmly and said with a smile, "Zara is an extraordinary girl, an ideal student as well. Do you like her?" The question caught me off guard. A strange heat rushed up my throat, my eyes grew warm, joy and embarrassment pulling at me from both sides. I said nothing, only smiled shyly and lowered my head. He chuckled softly and added, "There's nothing to be afraid of—she knows how to build a home." My voice trembled slightly, as if a door to an unfamiliar future had quietly opened somewhere inside me.
He then paused, fell silent for a moment, and spoke while gazing into the distance. "This school, the hospital, the college—everything was a gift from Sir Raymond. The light he sent to us from Ironcrest still lives on today. He was a businessman in Ironcrest, though he was born in North Greenery. When he led the first movement against South Greenery, they could not tolerate it. They murdered Raymond, then spread lies through the news—that his own son had killed him out of greed for property. That son is still in prison today, but I know the truth will come out one day."
When all the formalities were over, Mr. Henry called me aside and said, "You did well today. This only increases your responsibility. If you wish, you can stay connected with the school regularly, organize activities—and even earn money through it." He pressed my shoulder gently, and the warmth of his touch drew my guarded heart out into the open.
Evening slowly descended. Zara and I took our leave from the headmaster, the teachers, and the parents—everyone smiling, gratitude visible in many eyes. Zara looked at me and said shyly, "Today is one of the most beautiful days of my life. Thank you—without you, this wouldn't have turned out so well." Embarrassed, I replied, "It's nothing. You did far more than I did." She shook her head softly and said, "No… because you came, I could do all this." Our eyes met, sharing a small, restless smile—the dignity of the day glowing quietly between us.
After that, we left the gate and took a rickshaw toward home. When we reached Zara's house, I dropped her off at the entrance. She invited me inside, but my shyness held me back, and I couldn't go. Afterward, I returned to my own room, carrying the quiet weight of a day that had changed something within me.