Suddenly, I felt her fingers gently touch mine under the table. Then she quickly placed something small and soft into my hand — a folded note.

I unfolded it under the table, trying not to draw attention. On the napkin, written in uneven, childish handwriting, it said:

“Mom, pretend you feel sick right now and leave!”

Panic rushed through me. I looked up — my daughter was sitting straight, pale, her lips trembling. Not a trace of a joke.

I didn’t understand anything, but something inside me told me I had to do what she said. I slowly raised my hand to my temple, let myself sway slightly, and whispered: