One hand rested against the doorframe as he stared into the crib after Daniel gently placed the baby inside. I watched every bit of color disappear from his face. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes widened—not with excitement, but with fear.
He slowly stepped backward.
Then another step.
“Max?” I asked. “Honey, what is it?”
He turned toward me, barely above a whisper.
“That’s not my sister.”
Daniel let out a tired laugh.
“Buddy, come on.”
“I want to go to my room.”
I caught Daniel’s eye.
Every parent knows that silent look.
Here we go.
Daniel rolled his eyes ever so slightly before mouthing one word.
Jealous.
I nodded because, at the time, it seemed like the obvious explanation.
That evening, Max refused to join us for dinner until I personally went upstairs and brought him down.
He hardly spoke throughout the meal.
Whenever the baby cried, he startled so violently that he knocked over his cup of juice. Daniel scolded him for being careless, and Max dissolved into tears so quickly that both of us were caught off guard.
Later that night, after the baby finally settled to sleep, I discovered Max sitting alone in the upstairs hallway outside the nursery. His knees were pulled tightly against his chest.
“Sweetheart?” I said as I knelt beside him. “Talk to me.”
I gently brushed his hair away from his forehead.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
He shook his head so hard it worried me.
“I don’t want Daddy to hear.”
A strange chill settled deep inside me.
It wasn’t overwhelming.
Just enough to make my stomach tighten.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Daddy can’t hear us. Tell me.”
Max immediately grabbed my hand with both of his tiny hands.
“Because I saw what they did at the hospital after Daddy took me to get juice.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
His breathing became uneven, the same way it always did when he was fighting back tears.
“Daddy said we were getting apple juice from the machine. But then he didn’t go to the machine. He took me down the other hallway, and he told me to stand by the wall and be quiet.”
“Why?”
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