All I wanted was clarity. I thought the biggest December problem I’d face would be unfinished shopping or a sick child before a school play.

All I wanted was clarity. I thought the biggest December problem I’d face would be unfinished shopping or a sick child before a school play.

Instead, a quiet phone call from my daughter’s preschool teacher shifted everything. She gently showed me a drawing Ruby had made — our family, holding hands beneath a bright star.

There was me, my husband Dan, our daughter… and another woman, taller than I was, labeled “Molly.” My stomach tightened as the teacher explained that

Ruby talked about Molly often, as if she were part of our lives. I smiled politely, thanked her, and carried the picture home with hands that trembled more than I wanted to admit.

That night, I asked Ruby who Molly was. She answered cheerfully, without hesitation: “Daddy’s friend. We see her on Saturdays.” Saturdays — the day I’d been working for months to support our household. Ruby described arcades, cookies, hot chocolate, and how Molly smelled like vanilla and Christmas.