I was told to wait outside her room.

“She needs space,” the nurse said.

But Grace was only five.

A week later, after the funeral, the hospital called to collect her belongings.

Daniel offered to pick them up.

But something in his urgency felt off.

I went instead.

And that’s when everything changed.

PART 2

At the hospital, they handed me a plastic bag with Grace’s name on it.

A nurse—Hannah—appeared behind the desk. She looked at me strangely, almost like she wanted to say more but couldn’t.

She quietly pressed the bag into my hands and whispered:

“Check the video when you’re alone.”

At home, I went into Grace’s room, closed the door, and emptied the bag.

Inside were her tiny clothes… and the pink sweater she wore the day she died.

Something slipped out of the sleeve.

A flash drive.

And a note:

“Your husband is lying to you.”

That night, I waited until Daniel was asleep.

 

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