A month after adopting Jennifer, she looked up at me with wide, solemn eyes and whispered, “Mommy, don’t trust Daddy.” Her words echoed in my mind, stirring an unease I couldn’t quite place. What secrets could my husband, Richard, possibly be hiding?
Jennifer was still so new to our family—small, quiet, and watchful. Her big, curious eyes seemed to take in everything, her shy smile a hint of the cautious trust she was beginning to build. After years of waiting, trying, and hoping, she was finally here, our daughter.
Richard was over the moon. He couldn’t stop gazing at her, his voice soft and full of wonder. “Look at her, Marla,” he whispered one evening, as if afraid speaking too loudly might break the moment. “She’s perfect.”
“She really is,” I replied, my hand resting on Jennifer’s shoulder.
We had worked so hard to reach this point: endless doctor visits, emotional conversations, and stacks of paperwork. The first time we met Jennifer, something inside me clicked. She was only four—so tiny, so quiet—but she felt like ours from the start.
A few weeks into our new life together, we decided on a simple outing. “How about ice cream?” Richard suggested, kneeling to Jennifer’s level with a warm smile. “Would you like that?”
Jennifer glanced up at me, seeking reassurance before giving a hesitant nod. Richard’s grin faltered for just a moment, but he pressed on. “Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry—your pick.”
“Vanilla,” she whispered, barely audible.
At the shop, Jennifer stayed glued to my side, her small hand gripping mine tightly. She watched Richard with a mix of curiosity and caution, answering his cheerful questions with nods or quiet words. I chalked it up to nerves—after all, this was a huge change for her—but the faint tension between them lingered in the back of my mind.
Later that evening, as I tucked Jennifer into bed, she clung to my arm, her small fingers gripping me like a lifeline. “Mommy?” she whispered, her voice uncertain.
“Yes, sweetie?” I asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Her wide eyes met mine. “Don’t trust Daddy.”
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