A month after adopting Jennifer, she gazed up at me with wide, innocent eyes and whispered, “Mommy, don’t trust Daddy.” Her words settled into my heart like a stone, setting off ripples of doubt. Could Richard be hiding something?
I looked down at Jennifer, her big, watchful eyes framed by a shy, uncertain smile. After years of waiting, trying, and hoping, here she was—our daughter. She already felt like she belonged, yet her words hinted at a fear I couldn’t ignore.
Richard couldn’t contain his joy. His face lit up every time he looked at her, as though memorizing every expression. “Look at her, Marla,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s perfect.”
“She really is,” I replied softly, my hand resting on Jennifer’s small shoulder.
The road to adoption had been long—filled with appointments, paperwork, and countless prayers. But when we met Jennifer, something inside me knew she was meant to be ours. At just four years old, she was quiet and reserved, but her presence completed us.
A few weeks after bringing Jennifer home, we decided on a family outing for ice cream. Richard crouched to her level, his voice warm and inviting. “How about some ice cream, Jennifer? Would you like that?”
Jennifer glanced at him, then at me, as if seeking my approval. Her response was a barely perceptible nod, and she clung tighter to my hand.
Richard laughed gently, though a flicker of nervousness crossed his face. “Ice cream it is—vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, whatever you want.”
At the shop, she whispered her preference to me—“Vanilla, please”—barely glancing at Richard. He smiled, unfazed, but her quiet wariness lingered. Was this just the adjustment period, or was something deeper troubling her?
That night, as I tucked Jennifer into bed, she gripped my arm. “Mommy?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes, sweetie?” I responded, brushing back her hair.
She looked away, then back at me with wide, serious eyes. “Don’t trust Daddy,” she repeated.
My breath caught. Kneeling beside her, I whispered, “Why do you say that, sweetheart?”
She shrugged, her lips curling into a sad frown. “He talks weird, like he’s hiding something.”
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