And every time, I told myself the same thing: It’s just a phase.
At night, I asked Daniel, “How was Monica today?”
He shrugged casually.
“Totally fine. Mom said she was laughing, playing… no issues at all.”
That made it even more confusing.
How could a child who cried like that in the morning suddenly be “perfectly happy” all day?
Something didn’t add up.
The fourth morning, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Monica was crying again — but this time, there was something different in her eyes.
Not just sadness.
Fear.
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