My husband's five-year-old daughter had barely eaten since moving in with us. "I'm sorry, Mom... I'm not hungry," she repeated to me night after night. She always left her plate untouched. My husband simply said, "She'll get used to it." But one night, while he was on a business trip, she said to me, "Mom... I have something to tell you." As soon as I heard her words, I immediately called the police.
When I married Javier and moved with him to Valencia, his five-year-old daughter, Lucia, came to live with us permanently. She was a shy girl with large dark eyes who seemed to observe everything with a mixture of curiosity and caution. From the first day, I noticed something strange: I wasn't eating anything at mealtimes.
She prepared tortillas, baked rice, lentils, croquettes; dishes any child would enjoy. But she simply moved her fork, lowered her gaze, and muttered:
"I'm sorry, Mom... I'm not hungry."
That word, "mom," surprised me every time; it was sweet, but it carried a hidden weight. I smiled at her, tried not to pressure her, and tried to create a safe environment. But the situation remained the same. Her plate remained untouched night after night, and all she could eat was a glass of milk in the morning.
I have spoken to Javier on several occasions.
"Javi, something's wrong. It's not normal for her to not eat anything. She's very thin," I told her one night.
He sighed as if he'd had that conversation too many times before.
He'll get used to it. It was worse with his biological mother. Give him time.
There was something in his tone that didn't convince me, a mix of tiredness and evasion. But don't push; I thought maybe he should adjust.
A week later, Javier had to go to Madrid for three days on business. That first night, alone, cleaning the kitchen, I heard light footsteps behind me. It was Lucia, wearing wrinkled pajamas and a serious expression I'd never seen on her face.
“Can’t sleep, darling?” I asked, leaning over.
He shook his head, clutching his stuffed animal to his chest. His lips trembled.
"Mom... I have to tell you something."
Those words left me cold. I picked her up and we sat down on the couch. She looked around, as if making sure no one else was there, and then whispered something that took my breath away.
Such a short sentence, so fragile, so devastating... I immediately got up, shaking, and went straight to the phone.
“It can’t wait,” I thought as I dialed.
When the police arrived, my voice just came out.
I am... I'm a girl's stepmother. And my stepdaughter just told me something very serious.
The officer asked me to explain, but I could barely speak. Lucía was still at my side, holding me tightly.
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