Chapter 2 - THE SECRET SHE KEPT FROM ME
I carried Mireya upstairs that night.
She was exhausted.
Her little head rested against my shoulder.
But she refused to sleep.
Every time I tried to leave the room, her hand grabbed mine.
“Daddy?”
“I’m right here.”
“Promise?”
That word hurt.
Because children should ask their parents for bedtime stories.
Not promises that they won’t be abandoned.
“I promise.”
I sat beside her bed.
Waiting.
Listening.
Until finally she whispered:
“Can I tell you something?”
I nodded.
“Anything.”
Mireya looked toward the bedroom door.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Tove gets angry when you leave.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“She says I make you choose me instead of her.”
I felt my jaw clench.
“She said that?”
Mireya nodded.
“She says I’m just a problem you have to take care of.”
I stared at my daughter.
Six years old.
And carrying words no child should ever hear.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because she said you would be mad at me.”
I felt something break inside.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Guilt.
Because I had spent months thinking my daughter was becoming quieter because she was growing up.
I thought she was just shy.
I thought she was adjusting.
But she wasn’t adjusting.
She was surviving.
The next morning, I woke up before sunrise.
I walked downstairs.
Tove was making coffee like nothing happened.
Like she hadn’t watched a child struggle for air.
“We need to talk.”
She didn’t turn around.
“About last night?”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Cullen, you’re making this bigger than it is.”
I stared at her.
“My daughter couldn’t breathe.”
“She was having a panic attack.”
“No.”
My voice became harder.
“She needed her medication.”
Tove finally looked at me.
And something in her expression changed.
“You always take her side.”
I blinked.
“She’s six years old.”
“And I’m your wife.”
The silence between us grew.
Then she said something I never expected.
“Maybe you need to decide who matters more.”
I stared at her.
Because those words told me everything.
This was never about an inhaler.
This was about control.
But before I could answer…
My phone rang.
It was Mireya’s school.
I picked up.
“Hello?”
The woman on the other end sounded nervous.
“Mr. Cullen?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something you need to know about your daughter.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What happened?”
A pause.
Then the teacher said:
“We found something in Mireya’s backpack.”
My heart started racing.
“What?”
The teacher took a breath.
“A note.”
“What kind of note?”
Another pause.
May you like
Then she answered.
“One that says she’s afraid to go home.”
