It sounded so deliberate, so matter-of-fact. The kind of thing no six-year-old should say—let alone believe.
That night, as she tucked Esther into bed, Veronica couldn’t meet her daughter’s eyes. Something didn’t feel right. Not anymore.
But she said nothing. She smiled. She kissed Esther’s forehead.
And then she sat awake for hours, questioning everything.
Veronica tried to push the doubts away. She reminded herself of everything Esther had been through—how overwhelming it must be to leave behind one life for another.
Of course she would act strangely.
Of course it would take time.
But the signs only grew harder to ignore.
Esther didn’t just speak like an older child—she looked older too. Taller. Her limbs long and lean,her posture poised.
She seemed more mature than the six-year-olds at school.
Other parents noticed too.
Veronica caught them exchanging glances during pickup, their expressions puzzled but silent.
As though no one dared to say what they were all thinking.
Something didn’t quite add up.
Esther’s behavior at school began to deeply trouble Veronica.
Teachers reported frequent outbursts—snide, sarcastic remarks far too sharp for a six-year-old. Her comments weren’t just disobedient; they were disturbingly calculated, often laced with a biting wit no child her age should possess.
The school called often, expressing concern. Esther was disruptive, defiant, and at times, disrespectful in ways that left even experienced educators speechless.