Lila sat quietly in the backseat, her small hands folded on her lap. Through the tinted glass, she watched life swirl around her—street performers juggling, tourists snapping photos, vendors selling roasted chestnuts.

Then she noticed a girl about her age, standing by the fountain.

The girl’s bare feet pressed against the cool stone. Her dress was torn, her hair tied into a messy braid. But what caught Lila’s attention wasn’t her poverty—it was her eyes. They burned with a fierce determination, as if she had decided long ago that the world’s cruelty would never defeat her.

In her hand, she held a small glass jar filled with thick golden honey.