“Kids have wild imaginations, Sarah,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “She probably saw some cartoon at school or heard her friends talking. You know how she is. Last week she told the mailman we were moving to Mars.”

He seemed so completely unbothered that I let it go. We ate dinner, watched a movie, and went to bed. But that night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly overhead. Something felt wrong. It was a dull, heavy ache right behind my ribs, and I could not shake it.

I don’t even know why I did it, but the next morning after Greg left for a job in Kettering, I decided to call Lily’s kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Gable. I wanted to make sure Lily wasn’t telling these strange stories to other kids at school. I expected Mrs. Gable to laugh with me.

Instead, the phone went completely quiet after I explained what Lily had drawn. Nobody said anything for a second, and honestly, that felt worse than any scream.

“Sarah,” Mrs. Gable said, her voice dropping to a very quiet, serious tone. “I was wondering when you were going to call me. I was actually getting quite worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. My hand was gripping the edge of the kitchen counter so tightly my fingers began to hurt.

“Last month during our school Career Day, Greg came to the classroom,” Mrs. Gable explained. “He brought two other children with him. A little girl named Emma, who is about seven, and a toddler named Lucas. He introduced them to the class as Lily’s older sister and younger brother. He said they were visiting from out of town.”

I stopped breathing. I did not notice I had stopped until my chest began to burn.

“He also wrote a check,” Mrs. Gable continued, her voice filled with a pity that made me feel physically sick. “He donated 500 dollars to our school playground fund. He asked us to put it under your maiden name, Miller. He said it was a surprise for you.”