Through the door crack, I saw Rachel in skimpy shorts.
It wasn’t hard to guess what had just happened.
After New Year’s, Emily brought home Daniel—looking mature and steady—with love shining in her eyes.
That was when I knew I couldn’t stop it anymore.
In the car, the city’s noise flowed outside while silence sat between me and my daughter.
I sighed, about to speak, when Emily whispered:
“Mom, am I stupid? I knew Daniel and Rachel were too close, but I still wanted to marry him.”
“He even wore those pants and handed the key to Rachel…”
Her fists clenched on her lap.
I patted her hand. “Better to see the truth now than later. You’re not married yet. It’s not too late to walk away.”
“What about Dad?”
I snapped, “He hasn’t cared about you for years. He has no right to interfere.”
Her phone buzzed nonstop, messages piling up.
She glanced at the screen, silenced it, and after several more attempts, turned it off completely.
At home, I warmed her a glass of milk.
Before bed, she poured her heart out—about meeting Daniel, dating him, and how things changed.
“I don’t get it. He said he loved me. Why is he tangled up with another woman?”