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At first, I laughed. She looked ridiculous — tiny feet wobbling in oversized shoes, lips bright red and uneven.
“Look, Daddy!” she chirped, spinning clumsily. “I look just like Mommy when she goes to see her friends!”
She nodded solemnly, then added with the innocent confidence only a child can have, “Mommy said I can wear her lipstick when I go visit her other house.”
My hand froze midair. “What?”
Lily blinked up at me, unaware she’d just dropped a bomb. “Her other house,” she said simply. “The one with the pink couch. She said I can go there when I’m older.”
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. “When did Mommy tell you that?”
“Last week,” she said cheerfully. “When she came back from her trip. She said I couldn’t go yet because the man there doesn’t know about me.”
The man is there.
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