Nancy brushed it off with a gentle pat on her son’s head and changed the subject to school events, but I could tell she was unsettled too. The conversation grew slower, more thoughtful, as though each of us was quietly sorting through explanations we weren’t quite ready to speak aloud.

Later that evening, after we had gone our separate ways, Nancy called. Her voice wavered between concern and disbelief. She explained that her son had been mentioning “a friendly man” for weeks—someone who supposedly visited him while she was busy around the house. She had assumed it was imaginary play, the kind children often create when they crave attention or invent stories to entertain themselves. But now, hearing him confidently identify my husband—a man he had only ever met briefly at a neighborhood barbecue—left her questioning everything. I reassured her that my husband had been with me and our daughter every moment of our vacation and that nothing about her son’s story made logical sense. Still, logic couldn’t erase the heaviness we both felt.