“Daddy?”
Every conversation in the lobby stopped.
The little boy beside Dominic looked confused.
“Dad… who’s she?”
The woman in the emerald dress frowned.
“Dominic?”
He looked trapped.
Then he made the worst decision of his life.
He placed a protective arm around the woman beside him.
“Sophia,” he said carefully, “this isn’t a good time.”
The necklace slipped from my daughter’s hands.
It landed on the marble floor.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The paper hearts she had glued on that afternoon scattered across the polished tiles.
She stared at them silently.
Children don’t always cry immediately.
