“We raised children long before you did,” she said with a laugh. “Go grab the gift.”
Reluctantly, I laid Emma gently on the couch beside her grandmother, brushing her hair away from her face before heading outside.
The whole trip took less than fifteen minutes.
But when I stepped back into the house, something immediately felt wrong.
Emma wasn’t on the couch.
The Silence That Felt Wrong
At first, I assumed someone had carried her upstairs to sleep in one of the bedrooms. She had looked so exhausted earlier that it seemed logical.
But when I looked around the living room again and realized none of the adults seemed concerned about where she was, a cold knot formed in my chest.
I walked over to my mother and Natalie, who were standing by the kitchen counter with wine glasses.
“Where’s Emma?” I asked.
Natalie slowly turned toward me with a strange, amused smile.
Even before she spoke, my stomach tightened.
“Your kid was ruining the party,” she said casually. “So I gave her something to help her settle down.”
For a moment I couldn’t even understand what she meant.
“What do you mean ‘something’?” I asked.
She shrugged.
“Relax,” she said. “Just a couple of Benadryl tablets. She’s sleeping upstairs.”