She was polished where I was unraveling.
Calm where I was exhausted.
She organized meals.
Remembered appointments.
Handled charity obligations.
Eventually she helped care for Lily.
When we married, everyone told me how lucky I was to have found someone willing to step into a grieving household.
Standing outside that nursery door, I suddenly wondered what exactly Camille had stepped into.
I approached the narrow storage door.
Lily immediately whimpered.
“Daddy no.”
“I’m just looking.”
I opened it.
Darkness.
The overhead bulb was missing.
I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight.
Shelves lined both walls.
Blankets.
Old nursery decorations.
Boxes of clothes Lily had outgrown.
Nothing unusual.
Then my light reached the floor.
A tiny yellow sock lay against the back wall.
Lily's.
Beside it was a stuffed lamb.
I recognized it immediately.
Grace had bought that lamb before Lily was born.
Lily used to sleep with it every night.
Months ago, Camille told me Lily had stopped wanting it.
I had accepted that explanation.
I stepped inside.
My flashlight moved across the interior side of the door.
There were marks near the bottom.
Tiny scratches in the paint.
Several clustered around the height of Lily's hands.
My chest tightened.
Behind me, Camille spoke.
“Adrian.”
I turned.
“What happened in here?”
“Nothing.”
I picked up the stuffed lamb.
Lily saw it and began crying.
“Bunny dark.”
“It’s a lamb, sweetheart.”
She pointed at the little room.
“Lamb dark. Lily dark.”
Every sound in the hallway seemed to disappear.
I looked at Camille.
“What does that mean?”
She stared at me.
“I don't know.”
“Has Lily been inside this closet?”
“No.”
Lily immediately screamed.
“Yes!”
Camille closed her eyes.
“Oh my God.”
I walked out.
“You just said no.”
“Because you're making it sound like I lock her inside.”
“Do you?”
“Of course not.”
I looked at Lily.
“Does Cami put you there?”
Lily's entire body tightened.
Camille stepped forward.
“You're interrogating a toddler.”
“And she's answering.”
“She barely understands the question!”
Lily whispered into my shoulder.
“Cami shut.”
I stopped breathing.
Camille's face went pale.
“What did she say?”
“You heard her.”
“Adrian, I put her there once for maybe a minute because she was having a screaming fit.”
“A minute?”
“Maybe two.”
“With the door closed?”
“She needed to calm down.”
“In the dark?”
“I didn't know the bulb was missing.”
Something inside me shifted.
Not certainty.