My husband insisted that he would bathe our little girl himself every night. But one evening, when I secretly followed him, the ground removed from under my feet.
“What is it?” I asked.
Daniel didn't even look at me.
“She probably scratched herself while she was playing.”
“Didn’t you notice that last night when you were bathing her?”
“No.”
He quickly took the keys and left. That's when I really started to get scared.
During the day, I called our pediatrician. The assistant told me that we haven't been in the office in recent weeks. I asked if Daniel had called them, but she replied that she couldn't give me that information.
When he got home in the evening, I was determined to take Emma myself.
“Today I’ll take a bath,” I said, taking a towel.
Daniel stood in front of me.
“No, Laura.”
His voice was calm, but his face was tense.
“This is also my child.”
