\u201cForgive me\u2026 I couldn\u2019t save her either.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The sentence hung in the darkness like a knife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I kept staring at my phone screen, my hands shaking so violently I could barely hold it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Save her?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Save who?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel bowed his head next to Emily and began to cry harder, though he was still trying to muffle the sound. My daughter slept, clutching the edge of her pillow. And underneath it lay that pink hospital wristband.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I understood. Or at least, part of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The little sister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The loss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The emptiness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt a sharp, heavy blow to my chest. Two years ago, I had been pregnant. For a very short time. Barely nine weeks. A pregnancy that never made it. Bleeding. The hospital. A doctor saying, \u201cSometimes these things just happen.\u201d And after that, silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel never spoke of it again. Neither did I. Not because it didn\u2019t hurt, but because it hurt too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But Emily knew. We had made the mistake of telling her the moment we saw the positive test. She had been so excited. She would talk to my belly. She had even picked out a name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lucy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Later, when we lost the baby, we told her that \u201cher little sister wasn\u2019t going to be able to come.\u201d Emily cried for two days. Daniel cried for months. And now, he was lying down next to her every night like a man who was drowning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t sleep. I waited until dawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel came back to our room around four. He thought I was still asleep. I heard him slide into bed slowly. He smelled like Emily\u2019s baby lotion. And tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At seven, the alarm went off. He got up first. He went into the bathroom. I sat up in bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe need to talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel walked out, his face pale. He looked at me. I suppose he understood instantly, because his breath hitched for a second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou saw the camera.\u201d It wasn\u2019t a question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I nodded. I braced myself for a lie. An excuse. Something. But he simply sat down across from me like a man utterly exhausted from hiding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow long have you been doing this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel rubbed his eyes. \u201cFor five months.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt rage. Pure rage. \u201cFive months of sneaking into our daughter\u2019s room?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI didn\u2019t want to scare you guys.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou already scared her!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked down. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThen explain to me what the hell is going on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n It took Daniel a long time to answer. And when he spoke, his voice sounded broken.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEmily started talking in her sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The air caught in my throat. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAfter the miscarriage. Sometimes I\u2019d walk past her room and hear her talking to herself. She was saying\u2026 strange things.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat kind of things?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He swallowed hard. \u201cShe was asking when her little sister was coming back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chills ran down my spine. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know. I thought so too. But one night, I went in because I heard her crying.\u201d He fell silent for a few seconds. \u201cAnd she was asleep\u2026 but her hand was stretched out to the side of the bed. Like she was touching someone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t want to hear this. I really didn\u2019t. But I pressed on. \u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd she said, \u2018Don\u2019t worry, there\u2019s room for both of us.\u2019<\/em>\u201c<\/p>\n\n\n\n The kitchen suddenly felt too small. Too cold. Daniel lifted his eyes to meet mine, filled with guilt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAfter that, I couldn\u2019t stop going in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause she started waking up crying. She said Lucy was cold.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My heart was beating so hard it hurt. \u201cDaniel\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know how it sounds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDid you take her to see someone? A therapist?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes. The child psychologist said it was just a child\u2019s way of processing grief. But then, Emily started saying things that no one could possibly know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A thick silence fell between us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLike what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel got up slowly. He walked over to his briefcase and pulled out a folded medical envelope. The same one I had seen on the camera. He handed it to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I opened it with clumsy, trembling hands. It was an ultrasound. One I had never seen before. The date was from weeks before I lost the pregnancy. In the bottom corner, there was a handwritten note:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTwins.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt the world tilt. I stared at Daniel. \u201cWhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He began to cry again. \u201cThere were two babies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t speak. I couldn\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe second gestational sac was too small. There was no heartbeat. The doctor said the other embryo would likely never develop, and that we should just focus on the viable pregnancy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My legs gave out. I had to sit down. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you ever tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause a week later, we lost Lucy too.\u201d He looked at me, utterly destroyed. \u201cI couldn\u2019t bear to pile another death on top of you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt anger. Pain. Betrayal. But underneath it all, there was something else. Fear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because then I realized something horrific. Emily always talked about \u201cmy little sister.\u201d Never \u201cmy lost sister.\u201d Never \u201cthe baby.\u201d As if, to her, it had been real from the very beginning. As if she had actually known someone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That night, we didn\u2019t let Emily sleep alone. We put her to bed between us. Daniel didn\u2019t close his eyes. Neither did I.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At three in the morning, Emily began to toss and turn restlessly. She was sweating, frowning. Suddenly, she opened her eyes. She didn\u2019t seem fully awake. She stared up at the corner of the ceiling, then whispered:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe actually came today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel went rigid. \u201cWho came, princess?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emily gave a faint smile. \u201cLucy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n An unbearable chill swept through the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere is she?\u201d I asked, trying to sound calm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emily pointed under the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then, we heard the sound. Soft. Sharp. Like someone clapping twice from underneath the floorboards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel leaped up immediately. He flipped on the light. I threw my arms around Emily. He checked under the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nothing. Absolutely nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But when he stood back up, his face was completely white.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel was holding something in his hand. The pink hospital wristband. The exact same one I had seen under the pillow hours earlier. Except now, there was something written on the back in black marker.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNO ROOM.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt a wave of nausea. Daniel dropped it instantly. Emily began to cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe says you\u2019re squishing her, Daddy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t remember much of what followed. Only fragments. Daniel making an emergency call to a child therapist. Me crying in the bathroom. Emily refusing to step foot in her room alone. And that awful, lingering sensation that something was watching us from some corner of the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Over the next few days, everything got worse. Emily would wake up with small bruises on her arms. She said her little sister got angry when Daniel slept nearby. That \u201cthere was no space left.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wanted to believe it was just her imagination. Trauma. Anxiety. Anything but that<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But one afternoon, I found drawings hidden under her bed. Pages torn from her notebook. Drawn in black crayon. Three figures lying down: Emily, Daniel, and another girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With no eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Beneath it was a child\u2019s sentence, written in crooked letters:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDaddy promised to sleep with both of us.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n When Daniel saw the drawing, he completely broke down. That night, he confessed to something else. Something that finished destroying us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The night before I miscarried, he had gone to the hospital alone because I was asleep. He had spoken with the specialist. And the doctor had given him an option. To reduce the pregnancy to protect the stronger baby. To eliminate the smaller sac.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere was no real chance it would survive,\u201d he told me, sobbing. \u201cIt was a common procedure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt hatred rise up in my throat. \u201cDid you do it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel closed his eyes. \u201cI signed the authorization.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t remember hitting him. I just know my hands ended up on him. Pushing him. Scratching him. Screaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emily woke up terrified. And then, it happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every light in the house went out. A violent crash shook the hallway, sounding as if a door had exploded. Daniel rushed to the light switch. Nothing worked. The house was plunged into pitch-black darkness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And from Emily\u2019s room, a laugh began to echo. Not a child\u2019s laugh. Not completely. It was a wet, choking laugh. Small. Too small.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emily started screaming. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t want you to fight! She doesn\u2019t want you to fight!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We ran toward her bedroom using the flashlights on our phones. The door was closed. Locked from the inside. Daniel threw his weight against it once. Twice. Until he managed to burst it open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then we saw it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The mattress was dipped, as if someone were sitting there. The blankets were moving slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I dropped my phone. Daniel stepped back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And Emily\u2026 Emily smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe has room now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The blankets lifted on their own. Just a little. Just enough to reveal the shape of a tiny body underneath. Very small. The size of a baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then, we heard a wet sound. Like a sigh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniel fell to his knees. \u201cI\u2019m sorry\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The lights snapped back on all at once. Everything vanished. The bed was empty again. But Emily kept staring at the mattress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe says she isn\u2019t cold anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n After that night, we moved. We sold the house in less than a month. Daniel stopped going into Emily\u2019s room. Therapy helped a bit. Over time, she stopped talking about Lucy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Or so we thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Three years passed. Three years of trying to fake normalcy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Until last night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was putting away clean laundry when I found a hidden box under Emily\u2019s bed. Inside were drawings. Dozens of them. All of them depicted two girls. Always identical. One smiling. The other with no eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And at the bottom of the box was the pink wristband. The exact same one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We had burned it before we moved. I was sure of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I picked it up, trembling. And then I saw what was written on the back this time. In fresh, childish handwriting. Like it had just been written.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMommy\u2026 now there is room for all three of us.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cForgive me\u2026 I couldn\u2019t save her either.\u201d The sentence hung in the darkness like a knife. I kept staring at my phone screen, my hands shaking so… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3853","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3853","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3853"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3853\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3856,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3853\/revisions\/3856"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3853"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3853"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3853"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}