(Part 2)
I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because I was afraid of what would happen to Ethan.
Not because I was thinking about the divorce.
Not even because I was angry.
I stayed awake because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Chloe’s tiny face on that hospital bed.
Five years old.
Fighting for her life.
And trusting the person who was supposed to protect her.
Her own father.
The morning after the surgery, the hospital room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Machines beeped softly beside Chloe’s bed.
Her little hand was wrapped around my finger.
She hadn’t let go since she woke up.
Every few minutes, she would open her eyes and check if I was still there.
“Mommy?”
“I’m here, baby.”
“Are you mad at me?”
That question broke something inside me.
I leaned closer.
“Why would I be mad at you?”
She looked down.
“Because I did something bad.”
I immediately shook my head.
“No.”
“Listen to me, Chloe.”
“You did not do anything bad.”
“But Daddy said…”
She stopped.
Her eyes filled with fear.
I lowered my voice.
“What did Daddy say?”
She looked toward the door.
Even in that moment…
She was afraid someone would hear.
“That if I told anyone about the fish…”
She swallowed.
“You would go away.”
My chest tightened.
“Sweetheart, Mommy is never going away.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
She stared at me for a long time.
Then she whispered:
“Okay.”
Like she was trying to believe a promise she had been forced to doubt.
Later that afternoon, Officer Lawson returned.
He didn’t come alone.
A child protection specialist came with him.
Her name was Rachel.
She sat beside Chloe’s bed.
Not with a clipboard.
Not like an interrogation.
Just like someone having a conversation.
“Chloe, can I ask you about the fish?”
Chloe looked at me.
I nodded.
“It’s okay.”
She hugged her stuffed rabbit.
