“With a key I didn’t know you had?”
For the first time, Thomas had no immediate answer.
I told him to leave the room.
He tried to laugh it off, saying I was exhausted, that my first marriage had made me suspicious, and that I was turning an innocent bedtime routine into something ugly.
A year earlier, that probably would have worked.
But then Sophie reached out from beneath the blanket and grabbed my wrist.
She wouldn’t let go.
That was enough.
I locked the bedroom door after Thomas left and stayed beside both girls until morning. I didn’t interrogate Sophie or demand explanations. I remembered what the pediatrician had told me: if a child is frightened, don’t put words in their mouth. Listen.
Around six o’clock, Mia came into the room.
She saw Sophie beside me and immediately began crying.
That was when I realized my older daughter had known something was wrong long before I did.
