“Hey—stop!” Michael shouted, jumping up.
Too late.
He pulled the bottle away and pressed the call button.
“What are you doing? Get out of here!”
Ethan coughed lightly… and kept sleeping.
The girl reached for the bottle again, desperate.
“He needs it,” she insisted. “It’s special water.”
Nurses rushed in. From the hallway, a woman’s voice cried out.
“Lily! What did you do?”
A janitor in her thirties hurried in, panic in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, pulling the girl close. “I’m Ana. She’s my daughter. She shouldn’t be here.”
“Wait,” Michael said slowly. “How does your daughter know my son’s name?”
Ana froze.
“I… I work here. She might have seen—”
“No,” Lily interrupted. “I know him. We played together at Miss Ruth’s kindergarten. He’s my friend.”
Michael felt a sharp удар in his chest.
“My son never went to kindergarten,” he whispered.
“Yes, he did,” Lily said simply. “We played hide-and-seek. He laughed a lot.”
Ana grabbed Lily’s hand and rushed out.
Michael stared at the bottle. Clear water. No smell. Nothing special.
And yet… the girl’s certainty stayed with him.
That afternoon, Michael called Nina, Ethan’s nanny.
“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Did you take him to a kindergarten?”