When Amber, a dedicated mother and lawyer, finds a drawing made by her 7-year-old daughter, Mia, her world is turned upside down. The artwork depicts Mia’s teacher in Amber’s place with a heartbreaking note. Suspecting there may be an issue with her marriage, Amber questions her husband, Jack, but uncovers something more profound—Mia’s sense of abandonment due to Amber’s demanding schedule.
I didn’t believe I’d be here, but lately, this has been my life.
I’m Amber, 34 years old, married to Jack for ten years, and mother to my little girl, Mia, aged seven. Recently, I’ve been busier than I’ve ever been, which is saying a lot, as I work as a corporate lawyer.
My mother’s health has worsened over the past year, and we’ve been deeply involved in her hospital visits, therapy, and medication—expenses higher than I like to admit.
To manage everything, I’ve been working long hours because I would do anything for my mother.
Jack has been the most supportive partner I could wish for. He’s taken on housework, cooking, helping Mia with homework, and handling all the small tasks I used to do.
He’s made it possible for me to keep going, even when I felt like I was sinking.
But last night, everything shifted before I could breathe again.
I returned home late, exhausted, hungry, and ready to collapse. After hurriedly eating salmon and rice while Mia bathed, I put her to bed. As she drifted off, Mia mumbled about puppets.
She said, “I didn’t know you could put your hand in a socket and it would be a puppet.”
I explained, “A sock, sweetheart. Not a socket! Never put your hand in a socket, Mia.”
She giggled.
“Okay, Mom,” she yawned.
I began gathering her scattered dolls and then moved to the coffee table in the living room. Crayons, paper, and coloring books were everywhere.
That’s when I saw it—a drawing.
At first, it seemed harmless—a child’s sketch of a happy family: a man, a woman, and a girl holding hands. But when I looked closer, my stomach turned.
The man was clearly Jack. The girl was Mia. But the woman? Not me.
She had long brown hair and wore a flowing wedding dress. Below the picture, in Mia’s handwriting, were words that cut me deeply:
*I can’t wait for you to be my mom!*
It felt as if the floor had fallen away beneath me.
I took the drawing to Mia’s bed and sat on the edge, trying to wake her enough to get some answers.
“Sweetheart, can you tell me about this picture?” I asked softly.
“What picture, Mom?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
When Mia saw the drawing, her cheeks flushed, and she snatched the paper, clutching it tightly to her chest.
“You weren’t supposed to find that! Daddy said to hide it better!” she blurted.
Hide it better? Jack? Hide what?
My heart pounded. What was happening? Was Jack being unfaithful? And what’s worse—had Mia started imagining this other woman as her mom?
I barely slept that night. My mind was racing through worst-case scenarios. I thought of my mother, the work still waiting for me, and my marriage…
By morning, I had imagined all sorts of terrible things. I sat in the kitchen, waiting for Jack to get ready for work. Mia had already left for school.
“What is this?” I demanded, thrusting the drawing into his hands.
His eyes widened, and his face went pale.
“You told her to hide it?” I asked. “You told Mia to hide it?”
“Wait, wait,” he stammered, raising his hands defensively. “It’s not what you think, Amber. I need to explain.”
“You have five seconds, Jack. I’ve been going crazy all night.”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed.
“Come with me,” he said.
“Where? What about work?” I asked.
“We’re going to Mia’s school. I need to show you something,” he replied.
I wanted to yell at him but something in his voice, a sense of urgency that didn’t seem guilty, made me agree.
The drive to the school was quiet and tense, my mind still racing. What would Jack show me? Was there someone else waiting—real or imaginary?
When we reached the school, Jack squeezed my knee. As we walked toward the front desk, he asked to see Mia’s teacher, Clara.
The moment Clara entered, I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. She was stunning, and I couldn’t remember why I hadn’t met her before. She had long brown hair, a cheerful smile, and an easy attitude.
She had to be the woman from Mia’s drawing—that was obvious.
She smiled at Jack, and I wanted to scream.
“Clara,” Jack said. “Can you tell my wife what’s been happening with Mia?”
Clara’s face flickered with uncertainty, then softened as she looked at me.
“Of course,” she replied.
She motioned for us to sit in a small room beside the reception.
“Look, Mia’s been having a hard time lately,” she started. “She’s said she feels like her mom doesn’t have time for her. I’ve tried to comfort her, but she… Well, she’s only seven, and she’s been drawing lots of pictures to deal with her feelings.”
Clara handed me a stack of drawings, and I felt my stomach drop as I flipped through them.
Most showed a happy family with Clara replacing me. On the back of one, I noticed words I’d missed at first: *Daddy and Clara.*
“So, you’ve been spending time with my daughter?” I asked, my voice tense.
She nodded. “Yes, in class mostly. I’m her teacher. Sometimes she stays after school to help me clean up. She says she feels like she’s losing her mom because you’re always busy. Sorry if I crossed boundaries… I didn’t mean to interfere.”
My chest tightened as I looked at Jack. “And you? What did you tell her about this?”
Jack looked miserable.
“I found that picture last week,” he admitted. “I told Mia it wasn’t true—that you love her more than anything. But I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to make things worse, so I told her to hide her drawing because it would hurt you.”
I softly said, “You should have told me, Jack.”
He nodded, guilt in his eyes.
“I thought I was protecting you,” he said. “But I only made it worse.”
My anger drained away, replaced by a heavy wave of guilt. This wasn’t about Jack or Clara; it was about Mia’s sadness, her confusion, and her way of coping with my absence.
That night, I sat beside Mia at the kitchen table with bowls of ice cream we’d prepared. I hoped we could connect.
“Sweetheart,” I said gently. “I need to tell you something. I know I haven’t been around much lately, and I’m really sorry. Grandma needs a lot of help right now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. You’re my world.”
Mia’s eyes filled with tears as she threw her arms around me.
“I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” she whispered.
My heart broke.
“I love you more than anything,” I whispered back, holding her close. “That will never change.”
In the following weeks, I made some changes.
I reduced my work hours and asked my siblings to help care for my mom. Jack and I started a weekly “Mom and Mia” night, just us two, doing whatever she wanted.
Sometimes we baked cookies, other times watched a film, built a fort, or dressed up and went out together.
I also thanked Clara sincerely for her support and care for Mia when I couldn’t be around.
She apologized again for crossing boundaries, but I reassured her that Mia’s drawings weren’t her fault.
“I understand, but you shouldn’t feel bad,” I told her. “You gave Mia a safe space, and you reminded her she’s loved. That’s something I truly appreciate.”
Life isn’t perfect, but it’s better now. I’ve learned to ask for help and to prioritize Mia. Every time she picks up her crayons, I sit right beside her.
