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The screen displayed the daycare’s number.
“Hello?”
A trembling voice replied.
Something was wrong.
I could hear it instantly.
“What happened?”
I stood up so quickly my chair crashed backward.
“An ambulance has already taken her to the hospital.”
The next few minutes were a blur.
Ran through the office.
Ignored people calling my name.
Every red light was torture.
I kept telling myself she would be okay.
Children get sick.
Children recover.
Everything would be fine.
I repeated those words until I reached the hospital.
Then I saw Mark.
And I knew.
The Worst Words A Parent Can Hear
He stood in the hallway.
Pale.
Motionless.
Broken.
Before I could reach him, a doctor approached.
His expression told me everything.
“I’m so sorry.”
Three words.
Three words that destroyed my life.
“Ava suffered a severe allergic reaction.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“We tried everything.”
No.
“But we couldn’t save her.”
No.
No.
No.
The world spun around me.
My knees buckled.
The floor rushed upward.
And darkness swallowed everything.
Life After Loss
People say grief comes in waves.
They’re wrong.
Grief is an ocean.
It never stops.
It never rests.
It simply drags you under again and again.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
I barely ate.
Barely slept.
Barely spoke.
Friends brought food.
Family offered support.
Nothing mattered.
Ava was gone.
Her room remained untouched.
Her toys sat exactly where she left them.
Her favorite stuffed rabbit still rested on her pillow.
Every corner of the house reminded me of her.
Mark seemed devastated too.
At least, that’s what I thought.
He handled funeral arrangements because I couldn’t.
He spoke with relatives.
He dealt with paperwork.
Meanwhile, I spent hours staring at family photos.
Trying to understand how a healthy little girl could disappear so suddenly.
The doctors said it was an allergic reaction.
A tragic accident.
Nothing more.
I wanted to believe that.
I needed to believe that.
Until Miss Greenwood called.
The Call
Five days after the funeral, my phone rang.
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