“You’re overreacting,” she said finally.
That word again.
The same one my daughter had used.
Like an echo.
Like something taught.
My grip tightened on the phone.
“She told me what happened,” I said. “And I saw it.”
Another pause.
Then, colder this time: “She’s a child. She doesn’t understand things the way we do.”
I almost responded.
Almost argued.
But then I remembered something important:
This wasn’t a conversation to win.
It was a boundary to set.
“She understands enough to be afraid,” I said. “And that’s enough for me.”
Her tone shifted—defensive now. “So what, you’re just going to keep her from me?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth was… I didn’t know what everything would look like yet.
But I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
“I’m going to do what keeps her safe,” I said.
And for the first time in a long time—
I meant every word without hesitation.
