Clara felt the cold hospital room spin around her. She looked at her daughter’s pale, sore face and tried to milk her sorrows. The doctor seemed calm, but in her eyes, an impossible-to-hide concern was evident.

Clara felt the cold hospital room spin around her. She looked at her daughter’s pale, sore face and tried to milk her sorrows. The doctor seemed calm, but in her eyes, an impossible-to-hide concern was evident.

— «Oh, darling, please… tell us exactly what happened Saturday night?» the doctor asked in a soft voice, leaning towards the girl.

The little doll. She bit her lip and tears began to roll down her cheeks.

— «It hurt a lot… and Martí told me not to tell Mom… that she would just worry. He gave me some pills… very bitter ones. Afterwards… I remember everything well now.»

Clara’s blood ran cold. Pills? Why the hell would Martí give the girl medication if he didn’t tell anyone?

The doctor reacted immediately:

— «It’s important to know what kind of substances you’ve ingested. I’ve already requested an amblyopia, and we’ll do all the necessary tests at the hospital. This isn’t just digestion.»

Each moment seemed like an eternity. Finally, the ambulance arrived, and the blue lights illuminated the victim’s veins. The paramedics transferred the patient to the stretcher and immediately began stabilization procedures.

Clara walked down the hospital hallway, almost bursting into tears. Her mind kept returning to the same question:  How had she seen him before? How could she have left her daughter alone with Martí?

During the journey, the doctor told him:

— «The symptoms and what we saw on the ultrasound suggest that Aa’s body has been exposed to something it shouldn’t have. Her liver and stomach show damage. We’ll have exact confirmation after lab work.»

In the waiting room, Clara felt for the first time a burning rage, mixed with unbearable guilt. Martí. The man she had entrusted with her life and that of her daughter. The man she had believed. What was she hiding in reality?

Your mobile vibrated. A message from Martí:

“Everything okay? I’m home now. Are you all okay?”

Clara clenched her fists. She didn’t respond. At that very moment, the doctor came out of the emergency room door.

— «Aa’s condition is stable, but we have serious suspicions. We must inform the authorities. It is very likely that she has ingested toxic substances.»

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The words “inform the authorities” struck Clara like a bolt of lightning. She realized the nightmare had only just begun.

He looked up at his daughter’s blanched face, visible behind the glass in the living room. And at that moment he made an irrevocable decision: he would no longer allow Martí to approach the girl.

And in the depths of my heart, I knew that the truth about that weekend would be much darker than I could have ever imagined.

The girl complained of severe abdominal pain last week with her stepfather — and the doctor, upon seeing the ultrasound, immediately called the ambulance…

That morning was supposed to start like any other. Clara, mother of an eight-year-old girl named Aa, was preparing breakfast before taking her to school. But there was something deeply disturbing.

Aa was pale, sitting at the table with her hand on her stomach.
“Mom… it still hurts,” she whispered in a weak voice.

Clara felt her chest. “Did it hurt yesterday too?” She nodded, her eyes wide and bitter.

— «It started on Saturday night… really bad. I told Martí (Clara’s husband, Aa’s stepfather), but he told me it was probably because of the pizza.»

That weekend Clara had had to work, leaving her daughter in Martí’s care. Until then, she had always dismissed the girl’s complaints, convinced that they were just passing annoyances. But this time, a cold feeling ran through her blood.

Without wasting time, he took her to the pediatrician who had been treating her since she was born.

After a thorough check-up, the doctor decided to perform an ultrasound “just in case.” However, the moment the images appeared on the screen, the serenity vanished from her face. She exchanged an alarmed look with her assistant.

— “Doctor, what’s going on?” — Clara asked with a trembling voice.

The doctor immediately picked up the phone and, very firmly, said:
“I need an amblyopia for an eight-year-old girl.”

Then he turned to Aa, dyed and scarred on the examination table. And at that moment, a terrifying question crossed Clara’s mind:

What had really happened during that weekend with her stepfather?