Mom, don’t drink from that glass! The new dad PUT SOMETHING IN IT. Mary was in shock hearing these words from her daughter and decided to SWITCH the glasses. What she saw made her hair STAND ON END…..

The fourth-floor apartment in the old building overlooked a quiet courtyard surrounded by similar five-story buildings. Down there, under the old poplars, was her childhood. With hopscotch drawn in chalk on the asphalt, swings made from old tires, playing tag until late evening, until moms started yelling from balconies, calling kids home.

Now the courtyard looked different. With a new playground, neat benches, bright flowers in beds. But the essence remained the same.

This was her world, her refuge. And she almost lost it due to her trustfulness, fear of loneliness, desire to give her daughter a normal family. «Mom, can I go out to play with Lisa?» Sophie appeared in the balcony doorway, holding her worn backpack with Mickey Mouse.

«We want to go to the library, then for ice cream. I’ll be back by six, promise.» Mary hesitated for a moment.

Part of her. That part still waking at night from nightmares with Victor starring. Wanted to say «no»…

Wanted to keep her daughter close, protected, always in sight. But the other part. The one remembering her own childhood freedom.

Knew you can’t live in fear forever. Of course, dear, she smiled. Just keep your phone on and call if you’re late.

«Thanks, Mom.» Sophie kissed her on the cheek and was about to dash off but suddenly stopped. «You know, you’re the best mom in the world.

Really.» And with those words, she ran out of the apartment, and Mary remained on the balcony, feeling her eyes fill with tears. But this time not from grief or fear, but from overflowing love and gratitude.

In the evening, after putting Sophie to bed, Mary looked through old photo albums. Here she was herself, very young, just graduated from college, with a mop of curly hair and a mischievous smile. Here Alex.

Tall, awkward, but so dear, with guitar in hands, singing by the campfire at the student retreat where they met. Here their wedding. Modest, at regular city hall, but happy, with friends showering them with rice at the exit.

Here tiny Sophie at the maternity hospital, so small she fit in her father’s palm. Here their family trips, holidays, ordinary days filled with simple, quiet happiness. Then photos just of her and Sophie.

After the day Alex didn’t return from his trip. At first in these photos both looked lost, with forced smiles and sad eyes. But gradually, over time, smiles became sincere, and light appeared in eyes.

There wasn’t a single photo with Victor in these albums. For some reason he never liked being photographed, always found an excuse to avoid it. Now Mary understood why.

Fewer traces, fewer proofs of his existence in their life. Mary closed the album and went to the window. The night city twinkled with lights, somewhere far a car honked, in the neighboring apartment soft music played.

An old American folk song her mom loved so much. Life continued around, despite everything. After the story with Victor, Mary learned an important lesson.

She understood happiness isn’t in fitting someone’s ideas of a normal family. Happiness is being true to yourself, trusting your intuition, and most importantly, listening to your child. Children often see what adults miss.

Too immersed in their problems and desires. Their pure, unclouded perception can catch falseness where an adult sees only charm. Their hearts are more sensitive to danger because not burdened by compromises and self-deception.

Almost three months passed since that Sunday morning when her life could have ended if not for her daughter’s vigilance. Victor vanished from their life as if he never existed. Sometimes at night, Mary still woke in cold sweat, hearing his steps in the corridor, but those were just echoes of fear, gradually dissolving in the dark.

Sophie got an invitation to a specialized music school, and now they discussed the possibility of transfer. Mary herself returned to a long-abandoned hobby. Drawing, enrolled in watercolor courses and even considered organizing an exhibition of her students’ works at school…