My daughter kept coming home from her dad’s house missing things—first her American Girl doll, then her iPad, and finally my mother’s gold necklace. Everyone said she was careless, but when I hid an AirTag in her hoodie, the truth hit me like a freight train.
Divorce is hard. But watching your eight-year-old turn quiet and withdrawn, weekend after weekend, while wondering why—that’s something else entirely.
Lily used to be sunshine personified, chattering about her drawings, her friends, and dreams of being a vet. But three months after my ex, Jason, moved in with Dana and her daughter, Ava, something changed.
“How was your weekend, baby?” I asked one Sunday as she slid into the car.
“Okay.”
That was it. No stories, no excitement. Just “okay.” I noticed her hands in her lap, empty where her backpack should have been.
“Where’s your backpack?”
“Oh no! I forgot it at Dad’s house.”
I called Jason. “Can I grab it?”
“Dana’s out. Can it wait until next weekend?”
“It’s for homework.”
“I’ll drop it off tomorrow.”
The next morning, Lily was pale, puffy-eyed, stomach upset. She curled on the couch while I called in late to work. When Jason dropped off her backpack, he barely looked at her. “Maybe check her stuff better next time. She’s careless.”
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