Selene: A Journey from Shadow to Light

The sunlight spilled through the lace curtains, painting golden stripes across Selene’s small bed. The warm mid-August air drifted in through the open window, carrying the faint scent of lavender from her grandmother’s garden and the distant hum of cicadas. The world outside felt serene, almost mocking in its calm. Selene stirred, blinking against the light, feeling an unusual heaviness in her chest.

Down the hallway, laughter echoed—her sisters’ voices—Amara teasing Leah about her tangled hair, Noelle giggling at something Mae whispered—but something felt wrong. Selene’s small feet padded across the cool hardwood floor, carrying her toward the living room, where she noticed an unusual quiet. Her grandmother sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, hands gripping a crumpled tissue, her face pale and eyes red. Her grandfather stood nearby, his hands trembling slightly despite his attempt at a stern mask.

“Selene… sweetie…” Amara knelt beside her, brushing dark strands of hair behind her ear. Her voice wavered. “Your… your daddy… he’s gone.”

The words hit Selene like a physical blow. Her chest tightened, a pain so sharp it made her gasp. Her father—he was supposed to teach her to ride her bike this weekend, to lift her onto his shoulders to see the tops of the tallest trees. He was supposed to be here.

Tears stung her eyes, and she bolted into her grandfather’s arms. “It’s okay, little bird,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “We’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

Her grandmother’s voice cracked. “Your father loved you more than anything, Selene. And we will, too. Every day.”

Selene wanted to believe her, but the emptiness in her chest felt like an ocean she could not cross. Samuel, the oldest sibling, tried to mask his tears while her older sisters formed a protective circle around her. Even at five, Selene sensed the weight of being the youngest in a large family suddenly without their father’s guidance.

Her grandfather knelt beside her, holding her tiny hand. “Life feels unbearable right now, I know. But you are stronger than you realize. Your dad… he loved you fiercely. And so do we. Every single day.”

Selene wanted to understand, wanted to hold onto the warmth of his words, but grief seemed too vast. Outside, the sun shone brightly, the world moving on while she felt frozen in that moment.

As the day unfolded, the house was filled with whispered conversations, soft sobs, and quiet sighs. Selene followed her sisters as they gathered around the dining table, trying to maintain normalcy. Her grandmother pressed food into her tiny hands. “Eat, Selene. You need your strength,” she said, though her voice wavered, betraying her own struggle.

Later, Selene wandered into the garden, her fingers brushing the soft petals of lavender. The scent reminded her of calm mornings with her father, teaching her to water the plants and laugh at the smallest things. She whispered, “I miss you, Daddy,” to the sky, feeling a tear slip down her cheek.

Even as sadness washed over her, she noticed the quiet strength in her family—Samuel, tall and serious, keeping a watchful eye; her sisters, protective and tender; and her grandparents, trying to hold everything together while helping her make sense of the world.

That evening, her grandfather sat with her on the porch. “Your heart is big, Selene,” he said, wrapping a blanket around her small shoulders. “You will face hardships—many you can’t even imagine now—but your heart and your mind will carry you through. Always remember, you are not alone, and love surrounds you—even in the darkest times.”

Selene leaned into his embrace, taking in the words. Though grief had settled like a shadow over her young life, she felt a small spark of understanding—that even in loss, there could be resilience. That night, she went to bed holding her father’s favorite scarf, letting tears flow freely, and a quiet determination began to bloom in her heart. She didn’t fully understand the journey ahead, but she knew this: she would survive, she would endure, and someday, she would rise from the shadows.