Months After My 4-Year-Old Daughter Died, I Saw a Man in a Chicken Costume – When He Turned, My Blood Went Cold

The little girl tightened her grip on his hand and looked up at him with complete trust.

The word hit me harder than any scream could have.

Daddy. She called him Daddy. She looked at him with love and trust, and she had no idea who I was.

Somehow, I forced words out through the tightness in my throat.

Evan’s jaw clenched.

“No, it isn’t, and you shouldn’t be here.”

I laughed once. It came out sharp and broken.

“You don’t get to tell me where I shouldn’t be.

You left. Remember? You walked out straight after I gave birth.”

People passed us on both sides, laughing, chatting, completely unaware of what was happening right in front of them.

Evan leaned over and told the girl, “Sweetheart, go pick a balloon.

The pink one you like so much. I’ll be right here, okay? I promise.”

She hesitated.

She looked at me again with those eyes I’d know anywhere, but there was no recognition there. Just confusion. Curiosity.

Maybe a little fear.

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