That evening, as I tucked Jennifer into bed, she held onto my arm longer than I expected.
“Mommy?” she whispered hesitantly.
“Yes, sweetie?”
Her eyes widened, her expression suddenly serious. “Don’t trust Daddy.”
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Kneeling beside her, I gently brushed her hair back. “Why would you say that, honey?”
She gave a small shrug, her lips forming a faint, sad frown. “He’s talking weird. Like he is hiding something.”
I tried to reassure her, keeping my voice calm and gentle. “Jennifer, Daddy loves you very much. He’s just trying to help you feel at home. You know that, right?”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she curled tighter under her blankets. I stayed there for a while, holding her hand, though a quiet unease had already begun to settle inside me.
When I finally left her room, Richard was waiting just outside.
“How’d she do?” he asked, his tone hopeful.
“She’s asleep,” I replied softly.
Relief flickered across his face, though his smile wavered slightly. “I know it’s all new for her. For all of us. But I think we’ll be fine. Don’t you?”
I nodded, but Jennifer’s words continued to echo in my mind.
The next day, while I was in the kitchen stirring a pot of pasta, I overheard Richard talking on the phone. His voice was low and tense.
“It’s been… harder than I expected. She’s… sharp. Jennifer’s noticing more than I thought she would. I’m afraid she might tell Marla.”
My heartbeat quickened instantly. Tell me what?
I strained to hear more.
“It’s just… so hard to keep things under wraps. I don’t want Marla to find out… not until it’s ready.”
