When Amber, a hardworking mom and corporate attorney, discovers a drawing by her 7-year-old daughter, Mia, her world is shaken. The picture shows Mia’s teacher in Amber’s place with a heartbreaking caption. Suspecting betrayal, Amber confronts her husband, Jack, only to uncover something deeper… Mia’s feelings of abandonment amidst Amber’s busy life.
I didn’t think I’d be here… but this has been life lately.
I’m Amber, thirty-four, married to my husband Jack for ten years, and I’m the mother of a seven-year-old little girl, Mia. Recently, I’ve been busier than ever — and that’s saying a lot coming from a corporate attorney.
My mom’s health has been declining for the past year. Her hospital stays, therapy sessions, and medications have taken over our lives, emotionally and financially.
To cover everything, I’ve been working insane hours. I would do anything for my mother.
Jack has been the best partner I could’ve asked for. He stepped up at home without hesitation. Cooking, cleaning, helping Mia with homework — all the tasks I used to handle, he took on so quietly and naturally.
He made it possible for me to keep everything together, even when I felt like I was falling apart.
But last night, everything shifted.
I came home late, exhausted and starving. After eating a quick bowl of salmon and rice, Mia took her bath. As she was dozing off, she mumbled something that made me smile.
“I didn’t know you could put your hand in a socket and it would be a puppet.”
I corrected her — “A sock, sweetheart, not a socket!” — and she giggled sleepily.
After putting her to bed, I started picking up her dolls and tidying the living room. Crayons, coloring books, and papers were scattered everywhere.
That’s when I found it.
A drawing.
At first, it looked like a sweet family portrait. But then I realized what I was seeing.
The man: Jack.
The little girl: Mia.
The woman: not me.
The woman had long brown hair and a flowing bridal gown.
Underneath, in Mia’s handwriting:
I can’t wait for you to be my mom!
My stomach dropped.
I took the picture to Mia and gently woke her.
“Sweetheart… can you tell me about this drawing?”
She flushed red, grabbed the paper, and pressed it to her chest.
“You weren’t supposed to find that! Daddy said to hide it better!”
Hide it? Jack? Why?
That night, I barely slept. I kept seeing the picture, reading those words, imagining all kinds of scenarios.
By morning, I had worked myself into a quiet panic.
When Jack came into the kitchen, I held up the drawing.
“What is this? You told her to hide it?”
His face drained of color.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “Let me show you.”
His urgency didn’t feel like guilt — just desperation.
We drove to Mia’s school in tense silence. Jack asked to see her teacher, Clara.
When Clara walked in, I understood immediately.
Long brown hair. Bright smile. Beautiful. The woman from the drawing.
She greeted Jack warmly. My heart clenched.
Jack said, “Clara, can you explain to my wife what’s been happening with Mia?”
Clara looked confused, then sympathetic.
“Mia’s been having a tough time,” she said gently. “She talks about feeling like her mom doesn’t have time for her anymore. I try to reassure her, but she’s seven. She processes her feelings through drawings.”
She handed me a stack of drawings.
All showing the same thing: Clara in my place.
On one: Daddy and Clara.
I swallowed hard.
“So you’ve been spending time with my daughter?” I asked.
“Only in class,” she answered. “Sometimes she stays after school to help me tidy up. She said she feels like she’s losing her mom. I’m so sorry if I overstepped. Truly.”
I turned to Jack.
“And you? What did you tell her?”
He looked devastated.
“I found the picture last week. I told her it wasn’t true, that you love her. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything you were dealing with. I told her to put it away because I knew it would hurt you.”
“You should have told me,” I whispered.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said.
My anger faded, replaced by crushing guilt.
This wasn’t about cheating. It wasn’t about Clara. It was about Mia — her sadness, her confusion, her fear of losing me.
That night, I sat down with Mia at the kitchen table with bowls of ice cream piled high.
“Sweetheart,” I said softly, “I know I haven’t been around as much lately. Grandma needs a lot of help, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. You’re my everything.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” she whispered.
My heart broke.
“I love you more than anything,” I said, hugging her tightly.
In the following weeks, I restructured my entire life.
I cut back on work hours. I asked my siblings to help with Mom. And Jack and I started a weekly Mom and Mia night.
Sometimes we baked cookies. Sometimes we watched movies, made blanket forts, or went on little “dates.”
I also thanked Clara for being there for Mia when I couldn’t be. She apologized again, but I assured her she wasn’t at fault.
Life isn’t perfect, but it’s getting better.
I’m learning balance. I’m learning presence. I’m learning motherhood all over again.
And now, whenever Mia picks up her crayons, I sit beside her and draw, too.
