« Sarah already explained it. »
She stopped asking me to braid her hair.
« Sarah does it better. »
One Saturday she walked in wearing a friendship bracelet, and when I asked where she got it, she said Sarah bought a matching one for both of them.
« Sarah does it better. »
I smiled every single time.
But inside, I was dying.
I hated myself for being jealous of a woman who seemed to genuinely love my kid.
What kind of mother resents someone for being kind to her daughter?
That’s the question that kept me up most nights.
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