The day my son’s family came to the pool party, my four-year-old granddaughter refused to change and retreated to the bathroom, whispering that she had a stomach ache. Her parents asked me not to interfere. However, a few minutes later, she quietly followed me into the bathroom and confided in me a truth that made my blood run cold…
That summer Saturday, Daniel came to visit me with his wife and their daughter. The garden was festively decorated: the barbecue was smoking, laughter filled the air, the children ran barefoot before jumping into the pool. Everything seemed normal… except for Lily.
She sat off to the side, motionless on a lounge chair, her little dress wrinkled at the knees. Her gaze was dull, strangely empty for a child her age. Something was wrong.
I approached her cautiously. “Would you like to play with the others, my dear?”
She lowered her head. “My stomach hurts…”
Before I could answer, Daniel abruptly interrupted me: “Mom, leave her alone.”
Megan, engrossed in her phone, added without looking up, “She’s fine. It’s nothing.”
But Lily’s body said otherwise. She held herself tensely, her hand pressed to her side. My anxiety wouldn’t leave me.
A little later, I went into the house to use the bathroom. Lily quietly followed me as soon as she closed the door and locked it behind us. Her little hands were shaking.
“Grandma…” she whispered.
I crouched down in front of her. “What happened?”
She hesitated, then whispered, “Mom and Dad said I shouldn’t say anything…”
She lifted her dress slightly. A large, yellowish bruise covered her side. Too big to be a normal fall.
“I fell…,” she said, before shaking her head. “Daddy told me to say that.”
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