When we realized who had done it — I simply could not believe it. Everything around seemed to have lost its color. Rachel. My sister. The one I trusted to watch over our daughter, the house, my peace of mind.

Her words resurfaced in my memory: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Sophia.” Her photos with the children, those familiar smiles… and now I saw something false, painful in them. Why? How could someone I considered part of me do such a thing to a child?

Michael sat silently, staring at the floor. His hands trembled.
— We have to report this, — he finally said. — Police, child protection… no one should stay silent.

I nodded. My chest tightened, but alongside the pain came another feeling — determination. If I let fear rule, it wins.

I picked up my phone, opened the chat with Rachel, and wrote:
“Don’t come. We know everything. And nothing will be the same as before.”

I sent the message — and it felt like putting a period at the end.
The house became quiet. Sophia slept, clutching her toy, her breathing finally steady.

I walked to the window, looked at the night city, and whispered:
— No one will ever touch my daughter again. Never.