When my fiancé, Adrian, moved in with his 7-year-old daughter, Amila, I was excited to bond with her. She was bright, kind—and oddly responsible. Every morning, she’d wake up before anyone else and prepare full breakfasts: pancakes, eggs, fresh juice. She cleaned, tidied,
even pressed Adrian’s clothes. At first, I thought it was sweet… until I realized something was off. One morning, I found her flipping pancakes, standing on a stool. I gently asked why she was doing all this. Her response shattered me:
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