Malcolm took my child away six times.

Each time it was because Celia wanted to experience what it felt like to be a mother. After the seventh time, he didn't return her for a long while.

He called me, saying, "They’re twins anyway, two daughters who look exactly alike, so giving Maisy to Celia isn’t a big deal."

Meanwhile, Celia sent me a picture of herself feeding my daughter soda. She also sent a message: "Malcolm said I can just treat her like a toy."

After that, my younger daughter was gone, and Malcolm's hair turned gray overnight. Our seven-year relationship was completely over.

=================================

"Her head is so soft, her hands too," Celia kept texting me, adding, "She’s even more fun than a doll; I can feed her anything I want."

It felt like something snapped in my mind, a buzzing filled my ears. I tried calling her, but she never picked up. I had no choice but to call Malcolm.

My anxiety made me drop the phone repeatedly, silently begging for him to answer quickly. Maisy had just turned a month old; she couldn’t have soda.

Finally, when I got through, Malcolm sounded very impatient. "Is it really necessary to keep calling just because I took Maisy for Celia to see?" he said. "I already explained this. Celia lost a child and just wants the experience of being a mom."

"Malcolm, Celia is giving Maisy soda!" I cried out in distress.

"Please, bring her back; she can't have soda. She's so young."

"What are you talking about?" he snapped back, irritation in his voice.

"I'm right here with Celia; she's feeding Maisy formula milk."

And with that, he hung up on me. My subsequent calls went unanswered; his phone was off.

In utter despair, I held my head and sobbed. This wasn't the first time Celia had taunted me like this. During Malcolm's previous six abductions of Maisy, Celia would deliberately send these messages to provoke me, but then never actually hurt Maisy. This left Malcolm furious at me, claiming I was slandering Celia, insisting she would never harm the child.

But I'm a mother; ignoring such messages is impossible. I feared Celia might one day follow through.

I took a cab to Celia's place, knocking incessantly, pleading for Malcolm to return Maisy to me.

"Emberly, have you lost your mind!" Malcolm shouted as he opened the door, looking at me with sheer indifference.

"I've already explained everything to you. Why are you here at Celia’s house again?"

My heart was filled with sorrow. For every time he took Maisy, I showed up at Celia's door just as many times. Each time, he defended her.

"Malcolm, give me back Maisy, or something awful will happen!" I pleaded, my words coming out jumbled in my distress.

"Fine, I can do that."

Hope flickered with his words, but was immediately crushed when he added, "Apologize to Celia on your knees, then I'll return your child."

My heart sank. I knew he wanted an apology for the last incident when, in my desperation to reclaim my child, I accidentally pushed Celia to the ground and sprained her ankle.

"Alright, I’ll do it," I said.

"As long as you give Maisy back to me."

“No need, I know Celia was just upset about missing her child and accidentally pushed me,” Emberly suddenly said as she walked out the door, still holding Maisy. Ever since becoming a mother, I'd become sensitive to anything involving children. At that moment, the distinct scent of soda on Maisy hit me.

“Emberly!” I was overwhelmed with emotion and rushed forward to grab my child, but Malcolm blocked me, shoving me aside.

“Emberly Jenkins, have you lost your mind since having the baby?” he exclaimed. “Celia just wants to know what it's like to be a mom. She wouldn't harm Maisy.”

Wouldn't harm her? Then why the soda smell? My mind raced, my heart pounded as I kept my eyes fixed on Maisy.

“Apologize to Celia right now,” Malcolm demanded coldly.

I clenched my teeth. “Fine.” I was about to kneel, but then I noticed the lawn was full of sharp thorns. I quickly pulled back.

“No need for Emberly to apologize,” Celia said in a pitiful voice. “I'm already a widow, so I'm used to being mistreated. I don't mind.”

I saw the sympathy in Malcolm’s eyes. In the next moment, he gripped my hand so tightly that I gasped in pain.

“If you want to take Maisy, you'd better apologize now!”

I wanted to explain about the thorns, but for Maisy’s sake, I stayed silent and kneeled anyway. The thorns pierced my skin, and the pain nearly made me cry out. Yet, I held it in, bowing my head repeatedly.

“I’m sorry, Celia, I shouldn’t have pushed you that day,” I said through gritted teeth, looking up at Malcolm. “Can I have Maisy back now?”

He hesitated for a moment. “You’ll get her back in a couple of days. You should just go home for now.”

A pang of desperation hit me. “No, please, Malcolm, she's your child too. How can you bear to let her be in harm’s way?”

I clung to his leg, praying he’d relent and give me back Maisy.

“How could she be in harm's way?” Malcolm said, pushing me away coldly. “Emberly, can’t you show a little compassion and let Celia enjoy being a mother for a while? Honestly, she's been taking care of Maisy better than you. Besides, you have twins—two daughters who look exactly alike. Giving one to Celia wouldn’t be a big deal.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Both of my daughters meant everything to me. I couldn’t let either be taken away.

I struggled to stand, only to find the thorns had dug into my skin, nearly making me fall over.

“Stop pretending!” Malcolm growled at me. “Don’t think you can fake an injury to get Maisy back. I’ll be staying at Celia’s too, and I’m her father—I’ll take good care of her.”

“Emberly, don’t worry,” Celia chimed in. “I’ll look after Maisy and return her in a few days.”

Right then, Maisy started crying. The thought of Celia feeding her soda shattered my heart. I reached out for Celia, but Malcolm shoved me away again.

“Go home already and stop making a scene!” he snapped before leading Celia back inside. The door slammed shut with a loud “bang.”

I forced myself up, the long thorns tearing into my flesh as I rose. My legs were covered in thorns, blood dripping down, but the pain felt distant as I frantically knocked on the door.

Only my phone buzzed repeatedly in reply. Celia had sent another picture. Maisy was in the bathtub, Celia holding a steaming kettle over her.

[I’m just giving your daughter a bath. Stop banging on the door, or I might accidentally spill this hot water.]

I froze, my entire body shaking as I typed back with trembling fingers.

[I was wrong, I was wrong, please don’t hurt my daughter.]

The window was wide open, beckoning me to enter the house. I didn't hesitate; I climbed through.

Inside, Celia was poised to pour boiling water on Maisy, while Malcolm sat in the living room, lost in his phone.

"No!" I yelled, lunging forward to push Celia aside. The scalding water splashed onto me, searing my skin instantly. But the pain was nothing compared to my urgent need to protect Maisy. I hugged her tightly, cradling her in my arms.

"Emberly, have you lost it?" Malcolm rushed over, his first concern was for Celia. He missed the needles in my leg and the angry red burns on my skin.

The physical pain was trivial beside the ache in my heart. Malcolm's reflex was always to side with Celia over me. I remember on a holiday when we ran into a stray dog—he pulled Celia into the car first. Or the time a storm hit, and both our daughters became feverish. I begged him to take us to the hospital, but he insisted on staying by Celia's side.

With Maisy in my arms, I started to leave. Only then did Malcolm notice my injuries. He frowned. "What happened? Why do you have so many needles? And why's your skin so red?"

Celia sobbed. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault."

"I was just trying to mix some cold water in the tub for Maisy's bath," she explained, tears streaming. "I didn't expect Emberly to burst in and shove me, making the boiling water spill onto her."

"Have you lost your mind, Emberly Jenkins?" Malcolm's voice was icy. "Just because I said you couldn't take Maisy, you climbed in through a window."

Each word pierced me, but I stayed silent. My only thought was to get Maisy out of there.

Malcolm grabbed my arm. "I'll take you to the hospital."

I glanced at the red marks on his neck and the couch where his clothes lay. "There's no need," I said quietly.

I sidestepped him and headed for the door. Celia followed, saying, "Emberly, you should really see a doctor. I'm worried about your mental state. I know a good therapist; maybe you should talk to them."

As I was about to decline, Malcolm came over, pulling me along. "You need to go to the hospital. If you're having mental issues, I can't trust you with the kids."

He practically dragged me to the car, oblivious to the needles in my leg snagging painfully. My heart grew colder.

I should have realized long ago that Malcolm had changed, maybe when Celia returned from abroad and they had secret dinners. Or when Celia lost her child, and he insisted on taking Maisy away from me repeatedly.

But none of that mattered anymore. All I cared about now was looking after my two daughters.