I laughed. “That bed is huge. Or did your toys take over again?”
She shook her head. “No. I cleaned it.”
I brushed it off as a child’s imagination.
But I was wrong.
Two days passed. Then three. Then a full week.
Every morning, Lily said the same thing.
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“My bed feels too small.”
“I felt pushed to one side.”
Then one morning, she asked quietly, “Mom… did you come into my room last night?”
I crouched in front of her. “No. Why?”