My 4-year-old told me: “Daddy takes me to a woman’s new house.” I followed them, but what I saw through the window shattered my heart.

“Mommy,” Mia said, her tongue poking out in concentration. “Can we go to the pretty house today?” “The pretty house? Which one, sweetie?” I asked, wiping syrup off a plate. “The one Daddy takes me to,” she chirped, swinging her legs. “The lady there is so nice. She gives me cupcakes and has a dollhouse in a room just for me with a pink blanket.”

My heart slowed to a heavy, painful thud. “A lady? What’s her name, Mia?” Mia leaned in, whispering like a conspirator. “Daddy said it’s a secret. Just for us.”