A month after we adopted Jennifer, she looked at me with wide eyes and said, “Mommy, don’t trust Daddy.” Her words left me feeling uneasy.
Jennifer, a shy and cautious child, had become the center of our world. Richard adored her, always doting on her, but she stayed distant, especially around him. One evening, as I tucked her into bed, she whispered again, “Don’t trust Daddy.”
I froze. “Why, sweetheart?” I asked.
She looked worried. “He’s talking strange. Like he’s hiding something.”
Later, I overheard Richard on the phone, speaking in a tense tone. “I’m afraid Jennifer might tell Marla,” he said. “It’s hard to keep things secret.”
Panic surged through me. What could he be hiding?
That night, I confronted him. “What are you keeping from me?”
Richard paused, then smiled and took my hand. “It’s a surprise for Jennifer’s birthday. I didn’t want her to spoil it.”
Relief washed over me, though guilt lingered. The next morning, I watched Richard help Jennifer with breakfast. Slowly, trust was growing between them, and our family started to feel more connected.
