The more I adjusted, the more distant Emma became.
Slowly, She Stopped Reaching for Me
For years, Emma had brought every school assignment to the kitchen table and asked me to sit beside her.
Then one afternoon, I offered to help her with math.
She barely looked up.
“It’s okay. Sarah already showed me.”
Another morning, I picked up the hairbrush and asked whether she wanted her favorite braid.
“No, thank you,” she said. “Sarah makes it look better.”
She did not say it to hurt me.
That almost made it worse.
She was simply being honest.
A few weeks later, Emma came home wearing a colorful bracelet.
It was made from pale blue and pink thread, with two tiny silver charms woven into the middle.
“That’s pretty,” I said. “Where did you get it?”
Her face lit up.
“Sarah bought it for me. She has the matching one.”
