The bathroom mirror barely reached her forehead.
Alice stood on her tiptoes, toothbrush in hand, trying to balance herself while brushing her teeth. The stool Elvin had promised still hadn't arrived, and balancing on her toes in front of the tall basin had become her new morning challenge.
She leaned a little closer, the plastic handle of the brush slipping slightly from her wet fingers—splat!
Toothpaste foam landed straight onto her chin and dribbled onto her pajama top.
She stared at her reflection, half embarrassed, half annoyed.
"This toothbrush is a giant," she mumbled to herself.
A chuckle echoed behind her.
She turned sharply to find Chris standing at the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, arms crossed, amused as ever. "You look like a warrior preparing for battle," he said, eyeing her stance.
Alice pouted. "The sink is too tall."
"Well, you are tiny."
"I'm not!"
He held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. You're vertically compact."
"That's worse."
Chris stepped into the bathroom, pulling something out from behind his back like a magician revealing a trick.
A bright purple plastic stool.
Alice's eyes widened. "You got it?"
"Nope. I stole it from the neighbor's toddler." He winked. "They'll never notice."
Her jaw dropped.
"Kidding!" he laughed. "Elvin bought it. I just picked it up."
Chris set the stool down and helped her stand on it. She looked in the mirror. Now, finally, her full face was visible—wide brown eyes, cheeks still plump with childhood, and a foamy white grin.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded furiously.
"Good. Now don't fall and sue me."
After brushing, Chris helped her rinse, then handed her a towel. He studied her for a second. "You look happier today."
"I like it here," she admitted softly.
His expression warmed. "That's good."
"Do you think Elvin likes having me here?"
Chris tilted his head. "Elvin's not a very talkative guy, but… he moved halfway across the world for you. Trust me, that says a lot."
Alice hugged the towel to her chest. "He always looks serious."
"That's just his default military face. He was born looking serious. When he was a baby, people thought he was a tiny soldier."
She giggled.
"Anyway," Chris said, pointing dramatically at the stool, "today we celebrate! Your first day with a toothbrush throne. Let's go get you royal breakfast."
In the kitchen, Elvin was already preparing eggs. He raised an eyebrow when Alice entered, still hugging the towel.
"You brushed?" he asked.
She nodded, then beamed. "With my stool!"
He glanced at Chris. "Took you long enough."
Chris feigned offense. "Hey, she's the princess. She deserved a royal step!"
They ate together—Alice munching happily on buttered toast while the two men talked about military drills and weapon upgrades. She didn't understand all of it, but she liked the rhythm of their voices, the way they filled the room with noise and life.
After breakfast, Chris left again, and Elvin sat at the table with his coffee, flipping through files.
Alice approached him cautiously, holding something behind her back.
"Elvin?" she asked softly.
He looked up. "Hmm?"
She brought out a folded sheet of paper. "I made a morning checklist. For myself. Like a soldier."
He took it. In neat, crooked handwriting:
1. Wake up
2. Brush teeth
3. Fix bed
4. Say thank you
5. Eat breakfast
6. Smile at least once
7. Help someone
8. Sleep happy
Elvin blinked, then looked at her.
She stared at him, nervous. "Too silly?"
He folded the paper and slipped it into his breast pocket. "Not at all. It's perfect."
Her heart fluttered.
That night, before bed, Alice stood on her new purple stool, brushing her teeth again. She looked at her reflection, taller now, stronger somehow. There were no more toothpaste spills, no need to stand on tiptoe.
Just a girl, finally feeling like she belonged.
And somewhere deep inside, the wounds began to heal—not erased, but cushioned by kindness, laughter, and a toothbrush that finally fit her height.