When Lily came back from her father’s house wearing baggy, low-quality clothes that clearly weren’t hers, my stomach sank.
Her favorite lavender sweater—the one she practically lived in—was gone. Again.
I tried to keep my voice steady. “Sweetheart, where are your clothes?”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Brianna said my sweaters fit Kayla better. She gave them to her and bought me new ones.”
New ones.
They were thin, stiff, and obviously cheap. Lily didn’t even sound angry—just resigned. That hurt more than anything.
