Rainbow had always believed that colors could fix anything. On difficult days, she drew skies full of pink warmth and blue calmness, hoping the world would settle itself into something soft. But on this particular afternoon, no color could stop the feeling rising in her chest.
She sat on the edge of her bed, cheeks wet, knees hugged tightly, the crayons scattered around her like tiny witnesses. Her adopted mother, Mara, stood at the doorway—calm, firm, but clearly hurting to see Rainbow cry.
It had started with a simple rule. Mara asked Rainbow to finish her homework before going outside to play. Rainbow, distracted by her ideas, sneaked into the yard anyway, convinced she could finish later. When Mara found out, she didn’t yell—she simply brought Rainbow back inside and told her she was grounded for the evening. The fairness of it didn’t matter to Rainbow in that moment; all she felt was the sting of disappointment and the fear of letting someone down again.
“I’m not mad,” Mara said gently, stepping into the room. “But rules are here to help you, not trap you.”
Rainbow sniffed. “I just… I just wanted to make you proud. But now you’re upset.”
Mara knelt beside her, lifting Rainbow’s chin with warm, steady hands. “Sweetheart, pride doesn’t come from you being perfect. It comes from you learning, trying, and trusting me even when you’re upset.”
“But grounding me…” Rainbow whispered, “It feels like you don’t want me.”
“Oh, Rainbow.” Mara wrapped her into a soft hug. “Discipline isn’t rejection. It’s guidance. When you came into my life, I promised to keep you safe and help you grow—even when the lessons are uncomfortable.”
Rainbow’s tears slowed. She rested her head on Mara’s shoulder, feeling the slow rhythm of her heartbeat, steady and reassuring. The ache in her chest loosened, replaced by something quieter.
