Chapter 440

Evelyn Roland leaned against the wall, her eyes dimming slightly. Sebastian Valdemar gently squeezed her fingertips with his uninjured hand, but she only shook her head.

Though she had studied autism spectrum disorder extensively, seeing it firsthand weighed heavily on her heart. The children's conditions were far more complex than any literature had described.

Theodore Valdemar's case was already considered relatively optimistic.

But Evelyn wouldn't give up. Even if the chance was one in a million, she would try.

The headmaster stood awkwardly nearby, his wrinkles bunching up as he explained.

Evelyn's gaze, however, settled on a quiet little girl in the corner. The child had eyes so clear they seemed bottomless, her docility heartbreaking.

"That's Ruby. The most well-behaved, yet also the most worrying," the headmaster followed her line of sight.

"Can you tell me about her?"

From his account, they learned Ruby's uniqueness. This child had been different since birth—only crying once upon delivery before becoming like a delicate porcelain doll.

She never smiled. Never fussed. Her parents had tried everything to no avail. After nearly a year at the facility, there had been no improvement. The couple visited less and less.

"Such a pitiful child," the headmaster wiped his tears.

Evelyn crouched down and called softly, "Ruby?"

The little girl merely shifted her gaze slightly, giving no other reaction. As the headmaster said, her condition surpassed typical autism spectrum disorder.

An invisible hand seemed to clench Evelyn's heart as she fought back sorrow. Patiently, she called Ruby's name repeatedly, her fingertips brushing the girl's cheek.

"Ruby, should I tell you a story?"

Several teachers nearby had reddened eyes.

Cradling the girl, Evelyn began narrating a fairy tale in hushed tones. Sebastian sat nearby, watching the scene with gentle eyes.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a faint golden glow over Evelyn's loose strands of hair. At this moment, she was unbelievably tender—a stark contrast to her usual clever, lively self.

When the first story ended, Ruby remained unresponsive. Undeterred, Evelyn turned to the next page.

"Wah..."

Midway through the second tale, the little girl in her arms suddenly let out a sob.

The entire hall fell silent.

"Wah... wah..."

The crying grew louder, piercingly clear in the quiet space.

Evelyn's eyes brightened, hope surging in her chest. Any reaction meant there was still a chance for healing. The true tragedy was a completely closed-off heart.