When my four-year-old daughter, Chloe, begged me to leave my girlfriend Lily’s house, I knew something was wrong. Her fear was so intense I couldn’t ignore it.
“Chloe, don’t forget your jacket!” I called as I grabbed my keys.
“I don’t need it, Daddy!” she replied from the closet, picking out her favorite shoes.
Chloe and I had been on our own since my ex-wife left when Chloe was just one. We’d found a rhythm over the years. Then, three months ago, I met Lily. Chloe had met her twice, and though she was opinionated, she seemed to like her.
Tonight was our first dinner at Lily’s apartment, and Chloe had been excited all week.
When we arrived, Chloe’s eyes lit up. “She has fairy lights!”
“Pretty cool, huh?” I replied.
Lily greeted us warmly, and Chloe darted inside, eager to check out the apartment. She excitedly explored the cozy space, while Lily and I began preparing dinner.
Just as Lily shared a funny childhood story, Chloe appeared, pale and trembling.
“Daddy, I need to talk to you. Alone,” she whispered, eyes wide with fear.
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