The backyard was bathed in soft golden sunlight. The autumn breeze rustled the gum trees behind the fence, and the scent of fresh-cut grass lingered in the air. Birds chirped in the distance as Alice carefully laid out her mismatched tea set on a pink picnic cloth—plastic cups, a tiny teapot, and a few teddy bears lined up on one side like honored guests.
She had been preparing all morning. After her alphabet lesson with Chris, she had decided it was time for a proper tea party. And this time, she wanted Elvin to join.
Even if he was a scary-looking military commander.
Even if he only wore black or olive green.
Even if he had no idea how to hold a teacup the way her teddy bears did.
She adjusted the tiny bow on her favorite stuffed bunny and glanced toward the house. Her eyes sparkled as she saw him step outside, still in his combat boots and olive shirt, a slight frown on his brow as he took in the scene.
"Elvin!" she called, waving excitedly. "You're late to the tea party!"
He blinked. "I'm… what?"
She patted the spot beside her. "You promised. Yesterday. You said you'd come after training."
Chris snorted from a nearby tree swing, lazily rocking. "Better sit before the bears get offended."
Elvin hesitated. His boots were caked with dry mud, and he towered like a giant beside her small setup. "Alice… I'm not exactly—"
"Sit," she said firmly, crossing her arms.
He raised an eyebrow at her sudden command. It wasn't stern, but it was sincere. Elvin let out a quiet sigh and, slowly, carefully, lowered himself onto the grass. His knees didn't quite fit under the tiny tablecloth, and one of the cups wobbled.
Alice clapped happily. "Now, do you want lemon tea or strawberry?"
"Whichever is less imaginary," he muttered.
"Strawberry it is," she said, pouring invisible tea into the plastic cup with all the elegance of a royal hostess. She handed it to him with both hands. "Here, Sir Elvin."
He accepted it like it was a medal of honor. "Thank you, Lady Alice."
Chris laughed from the swing. "You look ridiculous."
"You're next," Elvin replied smoothly.
Chris immediately stopped swinging.
Alice beamed as she poured for the stuffed animals, giving each a name—Commander Fluffy, Sergeant Hops, and Doctor Bun-Bun. "We're having a strategy meeting," she announced. "About how to defeat bad dreams."
Elvin's gaze softened. "And what's the plan?"
She leaned forward, her voice lowered like it was top-secret. "Fluffy says we need courage. Bun-Bun says warm milk works better."
Elvin sipped his invisible tea thoughtfully. "I agree with Bun-Bun."
Chris snickered.
Then Alice pulled out a small notebook and opened to a page covered in scribbles and hearts. "Also, we have to train."
"Train?" Elvin asked, amused.
She nodded seriously. "Like you. So we can fight the bad guys in our sleep."
Elvin chuckled softly. "That takes years of work, Princess."
"I'll practice every day," she said solemnly.
He glanced at her determined expression—the slight furrow of her brow, the tiny fists clenched over her notebook—and he realized she meant it. In her own way, Alice was already trying to take control over the fear that still occasionally woke her up in the middle of the night.
"A soldier has to start small," he said. "Tea parties are a good first step."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
He nodded. "Commanders need to know diplomacy too."
Chris groaned dramatically. "This is the weirdest training session I've ever seen."
Alice handed him a chipped blue cup. "Drink. Or you're court-martialed."
Chris saluted mockingly. "Yes, ma'am."
They all laughed.
The moment was light, playful, and fleeting—but real. Amid the stuffed toys and imaginary tea, Elvin saw something precious in Alice. Not just a child recovering from loss, but a spark of resilience, of imagination, of hope.
And for Alice, sitting between two boys she adored—one teasing like a mischievous brother, the other steady like a quiet mountain—she felt safe.
They weren't blood.
But they were family.
And this backyard, this ridiculous tea party, these laughter-filled moments between the storm of grief and growing up—this was where her heart began to truly heal.
Not with medicine.
Not with silence.
But with laughter, teacups, and a pair of muddy combat boots.