And God help me, I almost didn’t.
Not because I didn’t trust Lily.
Because I trusted Ryan.
Or at least I thought I did.
Ryan had never raised his voice around me.
Never hit anyone.
Never seemed cruel.
He volunteered at church events.
He remembered birthdays.
He brought flowers home for no reason.
He was the man everyone described as dependable.
The kind of man women wished they had married.
Yet something about the fear in Lily’s eyes made every excuse feel hollow.
I gently lifted her into my lap.
“What happens in the bathroom, baby?”
She immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“You can tell Mommy.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“He said bad things happen when children tell.”
My blood turned to ice.
“Who said that?”
She wouldn’t answer.
She only cried harder.
That night I barely slept.
Ryan came to bed around eleven.
He kissed my forehead.
Asked if I was okay.
Told me I looked tired.
I stared at him in the darkness.
Trying to see something I had missed.
Trying to find some sign.
Any sign.
But he looked exactly the same.
The same face.
