She became withdrawn.
Then I found her crying.
Twice.
Both times, the moment I asked what was wrong, she wiped her face and turned away.
“Nothing, Mom.”
I knew my daughter.
I knew when she was lying.
“Did something happen between you and Rick?” I finally asked.
For just a second, her expression changed.
It was almost fear.
Then she looked away.
“Just leave it alone.”
I didn’t.
Not completely.
But I didn’t push as hard as I should have.
Rick told me not to pressure her.
“She’s eighteen,” he said. “You’re getting married. That’s a huge change for her.”
It sounded reasonable.
It sounded like exactly the kind of explanation a loving stepfather might give.
So I believed him.
That decision would haunt me later.
On the morning of our wedding, Anna said she was sick.
She refused to come.
I knew something wasn’t right.
