She had lived in the neighborhood for decades and had a habit of noticing everything that happened on the block. Friendly, but observant in a way that sometimes made people uneasy.
“Long night?” she asked with a knowing smile.
I returned the smile politely, assuming she was referring to the newborn stage we were about to enter.
“I guess we’re about to find out,” I said.
Her expression shifted in a way that immediately caught my attention.
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“Well, your baby was crying all night yesterday,” she said slowly. “I almost came over to check on you. I thought maybe you needed help.”
For a moment I didn’t understand what she meant.
“I wasn’t home yesterday,” I replied, confused. “I was still in the hospital.”
Mrs. Caldwell blinked as if trying to reconsider what she had heard.
“Well… someone was here,” she insisted after a pause. “The lights were on in the living room. And I definitely heard a baby crying.”
Daniel and I exchanged a quick look.
“That’s impossible,” he said carefully. “We were discharged this morning.”
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