When Everything Started to Feel… Off
Vivian is sixteen now.
Smart. Driven. The kind of kid teachers talk about in hushed, hopeful tones.
She spread her homework across the dining table every night.
Color-coded notes. Highlighters lined up just right.
I was proud.
But Mike started interrupting.
Offering snacks. Suggesting breaks.
Hovering when she said she wanted to finish.
It didn’t feel wrong enough to confront.
Just… distracting.
Then came the ice cream runs.
At first, they were a summer reward.
Milkshakes. Laughter. Whispered jokes.
I liked that she had something fun to look forward to.
Then November came.
December.
Frost on the sidewalks.
And Mike still grabbed his keys.
“Ice cream run?”
They stayed out longer.
Forty minutes. Sometimes almost an hour.
Vivian came back quieter.
And the feeling in my stomach didn’t go away.
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