The air left my lungs.
Meadow made a sound then—not a word, just a small, shattered noise that no child should ever make. I dropped to my knees and crawled through her hair to reach her. She flinched when I touched her shoulder, and I nearly collapsed right there.
“Baby,” I said, pulling her carefully into my arms. “I’m here. Mommy’s here.”
Her little body was trembling so hard her teeth clicked.
Judith huffed. “You’re being hysterical. It’s hair, Bethany. Hair grows back.”
I pressed my cheek to Meadow’s shaved head. It was warm. Too exposed. Too vulnerable.
Then Meadow found her voice for three words.
“Daddy said yes.”
I closed my eyes.
She whispered it again, as if repeating it might make it hurt less.
“Daddy said yes.”
The rest of the world disappeared. The house, the rain, the woman in pearls, the clippers, the marriage I had protected for twelve years by swallowing insults and calling them misunderstandings—all of it fell away until there was only my daughter in my arms, shaking under a grandmother’s roof while her father’s betrayal sat between us like a loaded gun.
