AVA’S POV

The morning sun shone radiantly through the kids’ bedroom curtains, casting golden streaks across the floor.

I stood by the dresser, brushing Ivy’s curls gently as she sat cross-legged on the fluffy rug, her little hands twisting her purple socks.

“I like this one,” she said smiling, touching the hem of the dress I’d laid out.

“It’s yours,” I smiled, pulling it over her head.

“You picked it out, remember?”

She nodded, quietly.

Her fingers kept fidgeting, and I ...