Her expressions carried a depth beyond her years, as if she knew more than she should. At first, Veronica tried to dismiss the feeling, chalking it up to paranoia. But the gnawing unease persisted, feeding on every strange glance and cryptic remark Esther made.
The turning point came one evening, as Veronica stood in the hallway, overhearing a conversation between Arthur and Esther. “Why don’t you like pretending?” Arthur asked, his voice innocent. Esther’s reply sent chills down Veronica’s spine: “Pretending is for children. I’m not a child.”