Chapter 12
When Lily turned six months old, I threw a small party.
Not because babies understand parties.
Because I needed proof that joy could still enter my house.
Claire baked a lopsided cake.
Robert hung crooked pink streamers.
Mr. Wilson came with his wife and a gift bag full of board books.
I hugged him at the door and could not let go.
He patted my back gently.
“I’m just glad I was awake.”
“You saved her.”
He shook his head.
“The camera did.”
“No,” I said.
“You brought it to me.”
His eyes filled.
During the party, Lily sat in her high chair and smashed banana across her face with royal confidence.
Everyone laughed.
For a moment, the room felt normal.
Then the doorbell rang.
My body froze.
Claire saw it immediately.
“I’ll check.”
It was a courier.
A court envelope.
Margaret had filed an appeal.
My hands went cold.
Mara arrived within an hour.
“This is expected,” she said.
“Expected doesn’t make it easier.”
“No. But it is weak.”
The appeal claimed the video prejudiced the jury.
Claire stared at her.
“The video of her doing the crime prejudiced them against her?”
Mara smiled faintly.
“That is generally how evidence works.”
I wanted to laugh.
I almost did.
But fear had teeth.
“What if she gets out?”
“She won’t. Not from this.”
Still, that night I barely slept.
The next morning, I took Lily to the park.
Sunlight warmed her cheeks.
She watched leaves move above us.
I whispered, “You are safe.”
A woman nearby smiled.
“How old?”
“Six months.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
The woman walked away.
A simple exchange.
A normal one.
No one knew my story.
No one saw the courtroom, the trash can, the police lights.
For the first time, that felt good.
May you like
I did not want to be only what had happened to us.
I wanted Lily to grow up inside more than survival.
