I didn’t date much. Life felt full already. But last year, I met Marisa at work. She was polished, confident, quick with a joke. She liked that I packed leftovers for Avery every night shift. Avery was cautious but civil, which, in teenager language, was high praise.
After eight months, I bought a ring.
Then one night, Marisa came over acting… wrong.
She didn’t sit. Didn’t take off her coat. She just shoved her phone toward me and said, “Your daughter is hiding something TERRIBLE from you. Look.”
My throat went bone-dry as the screen loaded.
