“I don’t want to overreact,” David admitted, running a hand through his hair, “but I feel like he’s trying to communicate something. Something he can’t explain yet.”
Dr. Mitchell visited the house the following afternoon. She played with Ethan on the floor, rolled a ball back and forth, spoke to him softly.
After a while, Ethan stood up.
Without hesitation, he walked to the corner.
And pressed his face against the wall.
Dr. Mitchell didn’t dismiss it. She watched closely.
“Has anything changed in his routine recently?” she asked quietly.
David thought. “We’ve had a few short-term nannies over the past year. No one stayed very long. He would cry when some of them came into the room.”
Dr. Mitchell nodded thoughtfully.
“May I observe him alone for a few minutes?” she asked.
David hesitated, then stepped out into the hallway while watching through a small monitor.
The moment David left, Ethan didn’t cry.
He calmly walked to the corner again.
Several quiet minutes passed. Ethan made soft, almost indistinct sounds—half-formed words.
Dr. Mitchell leaned closer.
When David returned to the room, she looked unsettled.
“He said something clearly,” she said.
David frowned. “He barely speaks in full words yet.”
“I know,” she replied. “But I’m certain I heard him say, ‘I don’t want her back.’”
A chill ran through David.
He knelt beside Ethan.
“Buddy,” he whispered gently, “who don’t you want back?”
Ethan turned slowly, his blue eyes unusually serious.
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