My ten-year-old daughter always rushed to the bathroom as soon as she came home from school. As I asked, “Why do you always take a bath right away?” she smiled and said, “I just like to be clean.” Yet, one day while cleaning the drain, I found something.

It wasn’t dirt.

It looked like dried blood.

My heart slammed so loudly I could hear it. I didn’t realize I was stepping backward until my heel hit the cabinet.

Sophie was still at school. The house was silent.

My mind raced for innocent explanations—nosebleed, scraped knee, a ripped hem—but the way Sophie rushed to bathe every single day suddenly felt like a warning I had ignored.