On the dot. Clean clothes. Cute little stories about pancake breakfasts and “special adventures.”
People told me I was lucky.
“He’s stepping up,” my friend Sarah said. “Don’t overthink it.”
I tried not to.
But something felt off in a way I couldn’t prove.
Like the air before a storm.
And my daughter, who usually couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, started coming home quieter.
Not sad.
Just… careful.
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