I didn’t believe my husband; I felt he was hiding something. The pain was too strong, the fear in my child’s eyes too real.

And one day, waiting until my husband left for work, I quietly dressed my daughter, put her in the car, and drove her to the dentist. She sat beside me, gripping the seatbelt and trying not to cry, but with every bump in the road her face twisted in pain.

At the clinic, the doctor was confused at first. He examined her carefully, asked questions, asked her to open her mouth wider, but my daughter couldn’t — it hurt too much.

She writhed in the chair, breathing in short, uneven breaths, her fingers gripping the armrests tightly. Then the doctor switched on the overhead light, leaned closer, and began examining the inflamed gum more thoroughly. His movements suddenly became slower and more cautious, and his face grew tense.