At pickup, my parents took my sister’s children and refused my daughter a ride. When she reached the car, my mother told her to walk home despite the heavy rain. My six-year-old begged, but they drove away, leaving her drenched and in tears.

 When I pulled into the lot, I spotted her immediately. Mrs. Patterson was holding an umbrella over her, trying to shield her from the worst of the downpour. Lily’s pink backpack drooped, waterlogged and heavy. Her blond hair clung to her cheeks. Her shoulders shook as if the cold had gotten into her bones.

The moment she saw my car, she ran.

“Mommy!” she cried, voice breaking, feet splashing through puddles.

I scooped her up and felt the wet weight of her clothes. She was trembling. I wrapped my arms around her so tight I could feel her heartbeat against mine.

“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

She pressed her face into my shoulder, sobbing. When she pulled back, her lashes were stuck together with tears and rain. SAY YES IF YOU WANT TO READ FULL STORY 

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