At first, Vanessa seemed eager. She learned Lily’s favorite foods, read bedtime stories, and bought matching hair bows. Lily tried, too. She called her “Mama,” though it always sounded rehearsed rather than natural.
But over time, subtle changes appeared.
Lily grew quieter. She laughed less. She clung to me longer during visits. As a former nurse, I knew children don’t change without reason. Loss of appetite. Night crying. Withdrawal. Those signs rarely appear out of nowhere.
Still, I told myself she just needed time.
That’s why I organized a pool afternoon when the weather surprised us with an unseasonably warm November day. I laid out towels, cut fruit, and filled the cooler with lemonade. Lily used to love splashing in the water.
When Michael’s car pulled in, Ethan jumped out first, already in his swim trunks. Vanessa followed, smiling brightly, carrying brownies “just for Lily.”
Lily stepped out last.
No swimsuit. No excitement. Just a heavy backpack and eyes fixed on the ground.
My heart tightened.
“Sweetheart, aren’t you excited?” I asked gently.
She pressed her hands to her stomach. “My tummy hurts.”
Before I could respond, Michael’s voice cut through the air.