Those vouchers were trash in Caleb's eyes, but they were also something this "idiot" had stayed up for nights on end to create.

[Caleb Shaw Eats On Time Voucher]

A little wolf gnawing a bone, looking fierce, while a girl smiled with crescent eyes beside him.

[Caleb Shaw Takes His Medicine Voucher]

The little wolf reluctantly opened its mouth wide, the girl on her tiptoes, feeding it a pink heart-shaped pill.

[Caleb Shaw Gets Some Sunshine Voucher]

A wolf sprawled under a tree, pretending to be annoyed, while the girl lay on his fluffy tail, reading a book.

[Caleb Shaw Has a Good Dream Voucher]

The wolf curled around the girl, a tiny moon hanging above them both.

Forty-seven vouchers. Each one hand-drawn, each one laminated with cheap plastic film that crinkled at the edges.

Caleb sat in his containment cell, spreading them across the floor like a mosaic.

He'd never told Luna, but he kept them in order. By date. He could tell which ones she'd drawn when she was happy — the lines were loose and playful. And which ones she'd made after crying — the ink was smudged in places where tears had fallen.

Three more.

He'd needed just three more to reach fifty.

"What are those?"

Vivian appeared outside the glass, peering in with curiosity.

Caleb swept the vouchers together and shoved them under his pillow.

"Nothing."

"They look like drawings. Did Luna make them?"

"I said it's nothing."

Vivian's lip trembled. "You don't have to be mean. I just—"

"Vivian."

His voice was tired. Not angry, not cold. Just exhausted.

"I need to be alone."

She left without another word, but the click of her heels carried a stiffness that suggested she was less hurt than she was annoyed.

I found out about the vouchers from the security feed.

Part of my job involved reviewing Containment Zone footage. I'd put it off for days, dreading exactly this — seeing Caleb, being reminded.

But professionalism won.

The footage showed Caleb at 3 AM, sitting cross-legged on his cot, arranging the vouchers in a grid. His wolf ears were soft, unguarded. His clawed fingers handled each slip of paper with a care that was almost reverent.

He picked up one — the "Good Dream" voucher — and pressed it briefly against his lips.

Then he put them all away and lay down, facing the wall.

I closed the footage.

My hands were shaking.

"Luna? Are you alright?"

Asher appeared in the doorway, a mug of chamomile tea in his hands. He'd learned my schedule and started preparing tea at exactly the time I usually started to flag.

"I'm fine."

"You're crying."

I touched my cheek. Wet.

"It's just... old footage. Work stuff."

Asher set the tea on my desk, his ruby eyes studying me with quiet concern. He didn't push. He never pushed.

Instead, he pulled up a chair beside me and simply sat there, his presence warm and steady.

After a while, he spoke.

"Luna, can I show you something?"

He held out his palm. On it was a small piece of paper, carefully folded into an origami rabbit.

"I made it this afternoon. It's not as nice as the drawings you used to make, but..."

I unfolded it. Inside, in his careful handwriting:

[Luna Reed Smiles Today Voucher]

Underneath was a simple sketch — a rabbit and a girl sitting side by side, both smiling.

"You don't need fifty," he said softly. "You just need one. To remember that someone wants to see you happy."

I pressed the paper to my chest and let the tears fall.

But for the first time in a long time, they weren't tears of grief.

They were tears of healing.