Emma and I returned from errands to find her room empty of the hats she had lovingly made. Moments later, Carol appeared in the doorway, casually admitting she had thrown them away. The shock that crossed Emma’s face is something I will never forget. Her weeks of effort—meant to bring comfort to children spending the holidays in difficult circumstances—were dismissed in seconds. I held her as she cried, trying to soothe her while my own heart ached. In the quiet that followed, I searched through our trash bins, hoping to recover even one hat, but there was nothing. Emma cried herself to sleep that night, and I sat beside her, wishing I had the right words to take away her hurt. I chose not to call Daniel, thinking I was protecting his peace while he traveled, unaware that silence would only deepen the storm ahead.
