When the screen flickered to life, the image didn’t match the reality I lived in. It wasn’t Logan in the nursery. Instead, a woman I had never seen before was moving through the room. She didn’t move with the uncertainty of a babysitter or the hesitation of a neighbor. She moved with a terrifying, calm familiarity. She smoothed Ben’s hair, adjusted his blanket with practiced tenderness, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my stomach dropped as if I were in freefall. My mind raced through a list of logical explanations—a sudden emergency, a last-minute sitter—but none held up. Logan had mentioned nothing. Continue reading…
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