Relief flooded the room—but it didn’t end the questions.
When we returned home, people stared. They whispered. They asked things they had no right to ask.
Anna suffered the most. Every glance, every comment cut deeper than the last.
At the grocery store, strangers made awkward remarks. At daycare, other parents questioned her.
At night, I would find her sitting quietly in the boys’ room, watching them sleep, lost in thoughts she couldn’t escape.