My 5-year-old daughter took baths with my husband. She always stayed in there for more than an hour. I asked her, “What are you doing in there?” She looked down with tears in her eyes, but didn’t answer. The next day, I secretly peeked into the bathroom and immediately ran to the police.

My daughter, Sophie, was small for her age, with soft curls and a gentle, quiet personality. People always called her “sweet.” My husband, Mark, insisted bath time was their bonding routine. He said it helped her relax before bed.

“You’re lucky I’m so involved,” he would say with a smile.

For a while… I believed him.

But then I noticed the time.

Not ten minutes. Not twenty.

An hour. Sometimes longer.

Whenever I knocked, Mark always answered the same way.

“Almost done.”

When they came out, Sophie seemed… off. Quiet. Withdrawn. She held her towel tightly around her body like she was trying to disappear inside it. Once, when I reached to brush her hair, she flinched—just for a second—but I saw it.

That was when the doubt began to grow.

One night, after another long bath, I sat beside her on the bed while she clutched her stuffed bunny.

“What do you do in there for so long?” I asked softly.

She looked down immediately.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she stayed silent.

I gently took her hand. “You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

Her lip trembled.

“Daddy says I’m not supposed to talk about bath games.”

Everything inside me went cold.

I forced myself to stay calm.

“What kind of games?” I asked quietly.