She’d smiled when she saw me looking.
“Head rush,” she had said. “I stood up too fast.”
That morning, I almost pushed harder. I almost told her she was staying home. I almost called the pediatrician right then.
But Daniel came into the kitchen toweling off his hair, dressed for work, smelling like shaving cream and cedar soap, and the moment shifted.
“She’s been stressed,” he said, glancing at Ava with a sympathetic smile. “Too much screen time, not enough sleep. That’s all.”
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