My husband told me not to go in the attic, so I just put the Christmas decorations up anyway.

My husband and I moved into our “dream home” when our daughter was one year old. It was beautiful, hardly used, and more than we could ever need. We didn’t get to choose the decor of the house, but we didn’t expect that. We knew that when we bought it new, we’d have to fix it up. We didn’t expect that the previous family would leave so much behind. The house was a modern style, and new. It didn’t have any of the typical issues that came with new houses. No squeaky floors, no leaky faucets. A little expensive, but it was perfect for us. It was more than we ever could have imagined, but we knew it was our home. The bedroom for our daughter was perfect. The kitchen had everything I needed and wanted. And the master bedroom had a walk-in closet and the tub of my dreams. When we moved in, I had never been so happy, and I had never felt more complete. We knew that we would never have to move again. This was our home. It took us a few days to get settled in. We had a contractor come in and finish the basement for our daughter. She had always wanted a playroom, so that’s what we gave her. We put her toy bedroom upstairs. She loves to jump out of her window and go into the backyard to play in the sandbox. It’s cute. One day, when we were finishing up the kitchen, I noticed my husband hanging pictures of our daughter in the entryway. I walked over to him, and when I got there he was done. I asked him why he was hanging them up. He just said it was only fair. I asked him what he meant, and he looked at me. Dead in the eyes. He told me “do not ask questions, just let it be.” I nodded and walked away. I just thought he was being grumpy. A few days passed and I was cleaning the house. I found a funny stain, so I decided to ask him about it. “Hey sweetheart,” I said. “Yes?” He replied. “I found a stain on the wall. Do you know where it came from?” He sighed and put his hand to his face. “Listen, I know you have questions, but just please. Don’t ask them.” My daughter made a sound. I looked over at her carseat. She started crying. “Nope! No questions. But just let me tell you one thing.” My husband, Rick, looked at me. He somehow knew exactly what I was about to say. “Don’t tell me.” I ignored him. “Do. Not. Go. In. The. Attic. Under. Any. Circumstances.” I looked at Rick. He smiled. Then, out of nowhere, music started blasting. When I brought it up to Rick, he said he had set up speakers around the house, and he controls them remotely. He likes to surprise us. I laughed at the absurdity, and we moved on with our day. A few days passed and we settled in more. I still had a lot of questions. One day while Rick was out, I decided to ask them. *Why is there a home gym in the basement?* *Who put the bars on the upstairs windows?* *Why is the backyard fenced?* *Was our house ever finished?* *Why did we move in before it was finished?* *Why did we move so quickly?* I knew the answer to that last question. It was because of the accident. I don’t like to think about it very often, so I try to avoid it. But today I decided I wasn’t going to. I went to the fridge to look at the pictures that were stuck on it, and I pulled one out. It was blurry and pixelated, but it was clear enough to see that it was a family portrait. A man, a woman, and a little boy. I realized that the little boy must have been the reason why the bars were on the windows. I looked closer at the family and I noticed that the mother and father were wearing white clothes. The little boy was also wearing a white shirt and blue jeans. I wondered why they wore white when they took the picture, but then I realized that it must have been the mom’s choice. I’ve always liked the color white. It’s so clean and simple, and it’s just so easy to match. The mom must have thought the same thing. Maybe she wanted to look like an ideal family. That made sense. When I looked closer at the photo, I realized that the father had scratches on his cheeks. I wondered what happened to him. Then I noticed that the mom didn’t have any shoes on. She looked like she was in a hurry. I felt bad for the family. It was clear that they were going through a hard time. The dad had scratches on his face, and the mom didn’t have shoes on. They didn’t even smile for the picture. I couldn’t stop looking at the picture. So, I put it in my pocket and went back to cleaning. I realized that I was in the kitchen, and the fridge had all of our pictures and important information on it. So then I had more questions. *Why doesn’t he know our birthdays?* *Why doesn’t he know about our allergies?* *Why doesn’t he know our names?* *What are we doing here?* I didn’t know the answer to any of these questions. But then I remembered something. My daughter was upstairs playing with her dolls. I realized that she doesn’t have dolls. I had to see her. I walked slowly up the stairs, not to startle her, and I looked over at her room. I saw her on the floor, playing with a ball. But she doesn’t have balls. I didn’t see any dolls, but I saw a stuffed animal. I may have missed it when I cleaned up her toys, but I didn’t remember her having a stuffed animal. I walked slowly over to it. As I got closer, I realized that it was a brown teddy bear. It was adorable, but I had never seen it before. I was going to pick it up when I heard a voice. “Mommy! What are you doing?” I turned and saw my daughter crawling towards me. It was cute. I smiled. “Just cleaning sweetie!” “Is it time for Christmas?” I stopped smiling. Christmas? It was the middle of February. “No sweetie, not yet.” “When is it?” “Later this year! It’s still a while away. But we’ll make sure to make it special for you.” “Yay!” I smiled again. I went back downstairs to read a book. It was a romance novel. I loved the love stories. I always envisioned my husband as the main male character. And me as the main female. I wish that it was my life. I wish I could be in the story instead of my real life. I got lost in it, as I normally do. I read until dinner. Then, after dinner, I went back upstairs to check on my daughter. She was crawing around and playing with her toys. She still had the teddy bear with her. I asked her where she got it and she told me “the boy in the attic gave it to me.” I smiled and told her thank you. When I left, I smiled. It was so cute when she made up stories. I went back to reading my novel, and when I finished it, I went to bed. When I woke up, I rolled over and looked at Rick. I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Good morning! Do you have plans for today?” He sighed and sat up. “I have to get my affairs in order, and I have to give some of my things away. It might take a while.” I smiled and kissed him. “Good luck. I’m going to go make some breakfast.” He smiled back and got out of bed. “Thanks.” I went to the kitchen and cracked some eggs into a bowl. I added a little salt and pepper and mixed them up before pouring them into the frying pan. They sizzled as they hit the pan. I moved them around the pan until they were done, and made toast with cheese. I put it on a plate and set it on the table. Then, I went back upstairs. “Good morning sweetie! Breakfast is ready. Come and eat.” My daughter ran out of her room and down the stairs. I smiled and followed her. We finished breakfast, and Rick and I did the dishes. As we were washing them, I decided that today was going to be different. Today I was going to get answers. So I started. “Hey Rick,” I said. “Yes?” “Can I ask you a question?” “Yes you can.” I took a deep breath. “For starters, what is your name?” He looked at me. Dead in the eyes. “My name is Rick. But yours isn’t Mom. What are you talking about?” My name wasn’t mom? Of course it was. I’m a mom. I have a daughter. “Excuse me?” “You heard

My husband told me not to go in the attic, so I just put the Christmas decorations up anyway.

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