Recalling that, I called Rhea again, pressing her about the bunny. But again, she just brushed me off with the same reason.
"She’s thirteen now. It’s normal for kids to outgrow their toys," she snapped, her tone impatient. "Maybe she gave it to Astrid. Stop overthinking and focus on work." Right after saying that, she directly hung up on me.
Her reaction didn’t sit right. Rhea used to dote on Zera. When Zera was little, even the smallest scrape would send her into a panic, insisting we rush to the hospital. And she definitely wouldn’t have forgotten the fever incident. But lately, her care for our daughter lessened. Even when Zera accidentally cut her hand, Rhea would have just told her to clean it with disinfectant herself.
The unease gnawed at me. So, I handed off the rest of my project to a colleague and booked the next flight home.
While waiting at the airport, I checked Astrid's social media again. But this time, her posts were gone.
Then I remembered my old backup account. I logged in and checked again. Sure enough, the posts were still there — she'd blocked me.