Kids fall. Kids play rough.

But they kept appearing.

Arms. Knees.

One day… her back.

“Did you get hurt?” I asked.

She shook her head.

Nothing more.

That night, I sat beside her bed, speaking quietly.

“Is someone bothering you at school?”

She hugged her stuffed bear tightly.

And then she cried.

“Some kids push me,” she whispered. “They say I’m weak… that I don’t have a real dad.”

My chest tightened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She hesitated.

“Because… Ryan said it’s not a big deal.”

That’s when the doubt stopped being small.

PART 4: THE MOMENT I STOPPED WAITING

The next evening, I came home early.

No warning.

No message.

The house was too quiet.

Continued on the next page