A month after adopting Jennifer, she looked up at me with wide eyes and whispered, “Mommy, don’t trust Daddy.” Her words echoed in my mind as I began to wonder what secrets my husband could be hiding.

I looked down at Jennifer’s small face, taking in those big, watchful eyes and the shy, uncertain smile she wore. After all those years of hoping, trying, waiting, here she was, our daughter.

Richard was practically glowing. He couldn’t stop looking at her, like he was trying to memorize every feature, every expression.

“Look at her, Marla,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “She’s just perfect.”

I gave him a soft smile, my hand resting on Jennifer’s shoulder. “She really is.”

We’d come such a long way to get here. It had been doctor’s appointments, long talks, and an endless paperwork of adoption. When we finally met Jennifer, something in me just… knew. She was only four, so little, and so quiet, but she already felt like ours.

It’s been a few weeks since we’ve officially adopted Jen, and we decided it was time for a small family outing. Richard leaned down to her level, smiling warmly. “Hey. How about we go get some ice cream? Would you like that?”

Jennifer looked at him, then glanced up at me, as if waiting for my reaction. She didn’t answer right away, just gave the smallest nod, pressing herself closer to my side.

Richard chuckled softly, though I could hear a hint of nervousness in it. “All right, ice cream it is. We’ll make it a special treat.”

Jennifer stayed close to me as we walked out. Richard led the way, glancing back every now and then and smiling hopefully. I watched him try to coax her out, to make her feel at ease. But each time he asked a question, Jennifer’s grip on my hand tightened a little, her gaze drifting back to me.

When we got to the ice cream shop, Richard stepped up to the counter, ready to order for her. “How about chocolate? Or maybe strawberry?” he asked, his voice bright.

She looked at him, then looked at me again, her voice barely a whisper. “Vanilla, please.”

Richard seemed taken aback for just a second, then smiled. “Vanilla it is.”

Jennifer seemed content to let him order, but I noticed she barely looked his way as we sat down. Instead, she ate quietly, staying close to my side. She watched Richard with a cautious sort of interest, not saying much, and I wondered if it was all just too much for her.

Later that evening, as I tucked Jennifer into bed, she clung to my arm a little longer than I expected.

“Mommy?” she whispered, her voice hesitant.