The fourth figure stopped my breath.
She was taller than me, with long brown hair and a bright red triangle dress. The smile on her face looked confident. Familiar, somehow.
Above her head, Ruby had written a name in big, careful letters.
MOLLY.
Ms. Allen lowered her voice. “Ruby talks about Molly a lot. Not casually. She mentions her in stories, drawings, even during singing time. I didn’t want you to be blindsided.”
I nodded and smiled because that’s what adults do when they’re trying not to fall apart in front of children.
But inside, something cracked.
That night, after dinner and bath time, I lay beside Ruby as I tucked her under her Christmas blanket. I brushed her hair back and asked, as casually as I could manage, “Sweetheart… who’s Molly?”
Her face lit up instantly.
“Oh! Molly is Daddy’s friend.”
