had been convinced she was the one who could help us heal, the one who could love Lily as her own. But now, standing at this altar, my confidence wavered.

I glanced over at Claire, who stood a few feet away. Her eyes were on us, her expression a mix of love and concern. She had always been patient with Lily, understanding of her grief, and eager to build a bond. But was there something beneath that pleasant exterior that I hadn’t seen?

I brushed Lily’s hair from her face and kissed her forehead, trying to provide comfort while my mind raced. “Lily, sweetheart, I promise you’re safe with us. If there’s anything—anything at all—that’s bothering you, you can tell me.”

Her small body trembled with emotion, and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “She’s different when you’re not there, Daddy. She gets angry… she says things.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. Had I been so blinded by my own need for companionship that I had ignored the signs? I needed to understand what was happening, needed to ensure my daughter felt safe and loved. I stood up, holding her hand, and made a decision on the spot.

“Lily,” I said softly, “let’s go talk, just you and me.”