They Said Children Don’t Lie

I remember it was a weekend morning.

Aunt Serena had been saying everything tasted bland lately, so I went out early to buy her favourite breakfast she had been craving.

Just as I was about to leave, my baby brother woke up in his bassinet.

He was babbling softly.

Babies could be a little noisy, and I was afraid he might wake the adults.

So I carried the bassinet into my room.

It was around seven in the morning.

The bakery was just outside the east entrance of our apartment complex, in a strip lined with small breakfast cafés and takeout spots.

Usually, there weren’t many people on weekends.

But that morning, the line stretched almost all the way back to the entrance of the complex.

By the time it was my turn, the rolls still weren’t ready, so I waited another half hour.

“A bakery that crowded on a weekend morning?”

Of the two police officers in front of me, the younger one, Officer Lane, frowned slightly as he looked at me.

I thought about it for a moment, then continued.

“I heard Dad say the abandoned mall next to our complex had started construction again, so there were a lot of workers around lately.”

“Dad also told me not to hang around near the mall when I came home from school.”

“Go on,” the other officer said.

He looked to be around forty, with dark skin and a calm expression. Officer Lane called him Captain Walsh.

After hearing what I said, Captain Walsh nodded for me to continue.

So I forced myself to think back to that nightmare of a morning.

“When I bought the rolls and came home…”

I took several deep breaths.

“I saw…”

I glanced toward the glass window in the hospital room door.

A shadow flickered outside.

“I saw Aunt Serena trying to smother my brother!”

“You little liar! That’s not true!”

Serena Miller rushed into the hospital room.

She had only recently given birth. A scarf was wrapped around her head, and she was wearing loose postpartum clothes.

After my baby brother died, maybe she had forgotten to pump. A large wet patch had spread across the front of her shirt.

She lunged at me like a madwoman, but thankfully, the nurses and police officers stopped her.

“Serena Miller, you already lost your son. Are you trying to destroy this girl too?”

Those words made Serena freeze for a second.

Dad quickly dragged her out of the room.

Then someone pulled me into a warm hug.

The person who spoke was Mrs. Harper from next door. She was also the head nurse at this hospital.

On the day my baby brother and I jumped off the building, she had just come back from grocery shopping.

My brother landed right in front of her.

Mrs. Harper wrapped the blanket more tightly around me, her eyes full of pity.

“Serena is a good woman. She’s been a wonderful stepmother too. If this hadn’t happened today, she would never have treated Mia that way.

“I still remember when she got together with Mia’s father. Everyone tried to talk her out of it. After all, Mia’s mother had only gone to prison, and Serena was basically choosing to become someone’s stepmother.”

Mrs. Harper sat beside me and spoke to the two officers.

A year ago, Mom went to prison.

She had severe depression. After being pushed too far, she stabbed someone with a knife.

The woman survived, but she lost the baby she had been carrying.

Mom was sentenced to three years.

But not long after she entered prison, she died there.

Aunt Serena was very kind.

She worked at the same hospital as Dad.

Even though her own health wasn’t great, she often came to our house to take care of Dad and me.

So one month after Mom died, Dad married Aunt Serena without any hesitation.

“Mia, your father is truly lucky to have married Serena.”

“No one will hit our Mia for no reason anymore.”

That was what Mrs. Harper said to me on the day Serena married Dad.

She was right.

After Mom died, no one would beat me for no reason anymore.

I watched Dad and Serena being sweet together, then gently nodded.

Mrs. Harper was almost done telling her story.

It was all about how good Serena had been to me.

How she made me homemade almond milk every morning, grinding the beans herself.

How I was bad at math, so she stayed up every night to tutor me.

How she cared more about me than she did about Dad.

A stepmother that good really did deserve to be called perfect.

I nodded beside her.

“Yes. Serena is the best mom.”