Adrian dropped to his knees in front of Rina.

His voice came out broken.

“What did you say?”

Rina’s little mouth trembled.

Tears slid from beneath her sunglasses.

“She told me not to tell you.”

The dirty boy stepped back, looking like he already regretted speaking. But it was too late now.

Adrian’s eyes locked on his daughter.

“Who told you that?”

Rina clutched the cane with both hands.

“Celia.”

Not “Mom.”

Not even “Mama.”

Just Celia.

A cold fear ripped through Adrian’s chest.

The woman on the path was closer now. Still jogging. Still smiling. Still pretending everything was normal.

Adrian pulled the sunglasses off Rina’s face.

Her eyes were wide open.

Clear.

Focused.

Terrified.

“How long?” he whispered.

Rina started crying.

“I could always see a little… but she said if I told you, you’d go away. She said the medicine would help me. But it made me sleepy… and sick…”

Adrian felt sick himself.

The boy spoke again, his voice shaking.

“I saw her throw the real food away. I saw her change the bottles.”

Adrian turned to him in horror.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

The boy’s eyes filled with tears.

“Because nobody listens to boys like me.”

The footsteps stopped behind them.

A shadow fell across the bench.

Celia’s voice came soft and sweet.

“Adrian… what’s going on?”

Adrian stood up slowly, holding Rina behind him now.

For the first time, he looked at his wife like she was a stranger.

Rina buried her face against his back and whispered:

“She knows that boy saw her.”

Adrian lifted his eyes to Celia.

And then he noticed it.

In her jogging pocket—

a small amber bottle.

The same one Rina had just described.

Celia smiled.

But this time, Adrian saw something behind the smile that he had never let himself see before.

And the boy took one frightened step backward.

Because Celia wasn’t looking at Adrian anymore.

She was looking at him.