My daughter, Lily, was 14 then. Normally warm and open, she began acting odd around Jake. One Saturday night, after he’d gone to bed, Lily came into the kitchen while I was rinsing off plates and said, “Mom, I don’t like when Jake’s here.”
I paused. “Why not?”
It wasn’t much to go on, and teenagers say odd things all the time, especially when they’re sharing space. But I watched more closely after that.
Sure enough, over the next few visits, I noticed Jake watching us. Not just casual glances—he would quietly stare at Lily across the dinner table. Sometimes he’d stand in the hallway just outside the living room, not saying anything, like he was listening but didn’t want to be seen. One time I found him in the dining room flipping through our family photo albums. When he saw me, he jumped like a kid caught stealing cookies.
Still, I didn’t want to accuse him of anything. Maybe he was just lonely, or awkward. His mom had recently remarried, and I imagined it wasn’t easy bouncing between households where he never fully belonged.
But then I found the box.
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