The first thing my daughter said when I came home early was, “Careful, Dad. It’s wet. I’m almost done.” She was twelve years old, kneeling on our entryway tile with a scrub brush in her hand. In the next room, four women were drinking wine

agreed.

Near the front door, she explained that Maya had appeared unusually tired at school.

Several assignments had been incomplete.

She’d sent messages home, but hadn’t received a clear explanation.

“I don’t want to make assumptions,” June told me. “But I think it would be helpful for everyone to talk about Maya’s schedule.”

I thanked her.

And for the first time, I realized how many small details I might have overlooked.
That evening, after Tiffany’s guests had left, I sat down with Maya.

My mother came over to help with dinner, and Maya seemed happy to have Grandma nearby. Mother’sDay gifts

I asked about her schoolwork.

Her friends.

And whether she still missed soccer.

At first, she told me everything was fine.

Then she admitted she’d been spending more time helping around the house.

Tiffany had gradually added laundry, kitchen cleanup, and occasional floor cleaning to her routine. HireContractors

Maya