THE NIGHT CHLOE KNEW
Being a single dad isn’t easy, but Chloe has been my whole world for the past four years. When my ex-wife walked out before Chloe’s first birthday, I promised myself I’d give her everything she needed—love, safety, and a father she could rely on.
Three months ago, I met Lily. She had this warmth about her, a smile that could melt stress away in an instant. We started dating, and Chloe had already met her a few times. She seemed comfortable around Lily, which was all that mattered to me.
Then came last Saturday.
Lily invited us over for dinner and a movie. It was our first time visiting her home, and she had everything set up—candles on the table, a delicious spread, and a cozy apartment that felt inviting. Chloe was excited when Lily offered her to play video games in her room while we finished cooking.
“Go have fun, sweetie,” I said, watching as Chloe eagerly darted off.
Lily and I were laughing over a childhood story when suddenly—Chloe came running back.
She gripped my wrist like her life depended on it.
“DADDY,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. ALONE.”
Her face was pale, her tiny hands shaking.
I frowned. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“NOW,” she insisted, her eyes darting toward Lily’s room as if something was in there.
My stomach twisted. I excused myself and took Chloe to the living room. She climbed into my lap, shaking like a leaf.
“Chloe, baby, tell me what happened,” I said gently, brushing her hair from her face.
Her lips quivered before she whispered, “Daddy, we have to leave. She’s bad. She’s really bad.”
Goosebumps prickled my skin. “What do you mean?”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “I saw something in her room. A picture… of us. Of YOU, Daddy. But… but it was taken a long time ago. Before we met her.”
The hairs on my neck stood up.
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded frantically. “It was in a box… with other pictures of you. And letters. So many letters.”
My heart pounded.
Lily had never mentioned knowing me before we met. And pictures? Letters? How? Why?
Something in me snapped to attention.
I scooped Chloe up in my arms, forcing a smile as we walked back into the kitchen. “Hey, Lil, Chloe’s not feeling too well. I think we’ll call it a night.”
Lily’s face fell. “Oh no! What happened?”
“She just got a little scared, that’s all,” I said, watching her carefully.
She hesitated, her eyes flickering toward her room. And for the first time since I met her, I noticed it—a shadow of something dark behind that warm smile.
“Of course,” she said finally. “Drive safe.”
I didn’t wait. I grabbed Chloe’s coat and walked out the door.
That night, after Chloe was asleep, I sat in the darkness, my heart hammering.
Who was Lily? And more importantly…
Why did she have pictures of me from years before we ever met?