It was a bright, sunny Saturday—the kind of day that makes everything feel lighter.
Daniel’s brother, Mark, was hosting a Pokémon-themed party for his son Jason, who had just turned seven.
Ellie was thrilled.
All week, she kept asking what Jason might like.
“Do you think he still loves Pokémon?” she asked one evening, twirling her pajama top.
I told her yes, absolutely. We browsed gift ideas together online.
When she spotted a limited edition Pokémon card set, her eyes widened.
“That one! He’s going to freak out, Mommy!” she exclaimed, clutching her cheeks dramatically.
Daniel and I split the cost, but we told her it was from her. She helped wrap it in shiny gold paper.
“Do you think he’s going to love it so much?” she asked again and again.
“I think he’ll love it almost as much as we love you, baby girl,” I said, kissing her forehead.
That morning, she chose her sparkly blue dress—the one with flutter sleeves and a satin ribbon tied at the back.
“I want to look nice for the pictures,” she said with a grin. “Do you think Jason will like the present?”
“Yes, baby,” I reassured her again. “And you look like a real-life princess, Ellie-girl.”
We dropped her off around noon.
Daniel and I had planned a small date—lunch at our favorite Italian place, maybe a walk by the pier.
Mark and Sarah greeted us warmly. Children’s laughter filled the yard.
We kissed Ellie goodbye, reminded her to wash her hands before eating and to save us some cupcakes.
Then we left.
Forty-five minutes later, my phone rang.
