Sophia had made a discovery. There were fairies in the garden.
She had seen footprints. Very small ones, in the soft dirt near the rose bush. And a tiny piece of purple thread caught on a twig. And once — she was almost certain — she had heard a tiny sound, like a bell, very late in the afternoon.
"Fay-eez," said Amelia.
"Yes. And they need a house."
Amelia thought this was an excellent reason to go outside.
They needed supplies. Fairy houses required very specific things: smooth pebbles, flower petals, interesting sticks, soft moss, and any objects that were small and looked magical.
Sophia collected with great focus. She examined each pebble carefully before approving it. She chose petals from the pink roses (fairies, she had decided, preferred pink). She found a beautiful piece of bark that curved into a perfect little door shape.
Amelia collected too. She collected dirt, mostly. She found a worm and tried to collect it. She sat down and collected a mouthful of soil, which was not ideal.
Mum cleaned her up twice and stopped counting after that.
They built the garden in the corner near the rose bush, where the fairy footprints were.
Sophia designed it. A pebble path leading to the bark door. Flower petals on the roof held down with tiny stones. A circle of smooth white rocks around the whole thing. A little pond made from a bottle cap filled with water.
She worked very carefully, the way she did when something really mattered.
"I think they'll love it," said Mum.
Amelia placed one pebble on top of the fairy door, which blocked the entrance completely. Sophia moved it, very gently, without saying anything.
That was very her, too. The good version.
Before bed, they stood looking at it together in the late golden light. It was small. It was made of stones and sticks and petals. But it was also, somehow, genuinely magical.
Sophia woke up early. Before Amelia. Before Mum and Dad. She padded outside in the cool morning air in her pyjamas, dew on the grass on her bare feet.
There was something leaning against the little bark door.
A tiny folded piece of paper. Smaller than her thumb. She picked it up with great care and unfolded it.
It said, in very tiny writing: Thank you. We love it here. — F
She stood there for a very long time, holding the paper.
When Amelia came outside and Sophia showed her, Amelia looked at the note, then at the garden, then at the note again.
And Sophia nodded. Because yes. Exactly.
