Chapter 9
Lily began therapy.
Dr. Lane used dolls, toy food, and a small wooden house.
Lily put one doll inside a closet.
Then she put another doll outside with a key.
“Who has the key?” Dr. Lane asked.
“Daddy,” Lily said.
I cried behind the observation glass.
After therapy, Lily asked if she could have a snack basket in her room.
“Yes.”
“Even at night?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I don’t eat it?”
“Yes.”
So we made one.
Crackers.
Applesauce.
Granola bars.
A little water bottle.
For weeks, she checked it before sleeping.
Then one night, she forgot.
I stood in the doorway and cried silently.
Mason visited on Saturdays with Eric.
Lily loved those days.
Eric and I became reluctant friends.
Two fathers comparing notes on the same woman’s damage.
He told me, “I thought I was crazy for years.”
“Me too.”
“That’s how she works.”
We built rules.
No secrets between households.
No forced affection.
No Vanessa talk around the kids unless they asked.
When Mason spilled juice one Saturday, he froze.
Lily whispered, “It’s okay here.”
Mason looked at me.
I grabbed a towel.
“Spills happen.”
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Both children watched like I had performed a miracle.
I hated Vanessa for making kindness surprising.
