Chapter 1The Perfect Children

A new teacher started at my daughter’s preschool, and the parents’ WhatsApp group was buzzing with praise. Everyone said their kids had become polite, well-behaved, and less picky with food.

But that night, my daughter Maya whispered a secret to me:

“They’re only good because they’re afraid to die.”

She said Duke was taken away and killed for sneaking chips during nap. “When he died, his mouth was stuffed with chips and his belly was bloated.”

Her serious tone chilled me. I quickly messaged Duke’s mom, who lives nearby.

【Hey, heard about Duke… please take care.】

She replied instantly with a photo of Duke sitting nicely and eating quietly:

【What are you talking about? He’s been an angel lately!】

I felt relieved, then annoyed at Maya for the scary story—until she pointed at the photo:

“That’s not Duke. He’s left-handed. Why is he using his right hand?”

* * *

My heart skipped a beat.

I zoomed in on the photo. Duke was, indeed, expertly scooping food with his right hand.

Our families lived in the same complex, our kids were in the same class; we knew each other well. Just last week, over dinner, his mom had been complaining to me. She was at her wit's end, she’d said, because she couldn’t get him to stop using his left hand.

And now, just a few days later, he was completely switched?

I turned to my daughter, my voice firm. “Maya, I need you to tell me the truth. Were you joking before?”

She blinked her big, innocent eyes. “I really saw Duke die, Mommy. I’m not lying.”

Hearing such terrifying words from my own child’s mouth, I felt a deep, unsettling cold. I had raised Maya myself; I knew she wasn’t the type to make up cruel jokes.

But if what she was saying was true…

A thought occurred to me. A child Maya’s age doesn’t fully grasp the concept of death. Maybe what she called “death” was just seeing someone lying on the ground, still and with their eyes closed.

I chose my words carefully. “Maya, honey, you know there’s a difference between being dead and being asleep, right?”

She nodded without hesitation. “I’m not a baby, Mommy. My storybooks explained what death is. I get it.”

The knot of anxiety in my chest tightened. “Okay, then tell me everything. How did you see Duke get taken? And how did you see him… die?”

Maya tilted her head, recalling the memory. “The person just appeared out of nowhere. They were wearing a cartoon mascot head.”

“It was during nap time. I couldn't sleep, so I was just lying there with my eyes barely open. That’s when I saw Duke sneaking chips from his bag. He only ate a few before the person grabbed him and dragged him out.”

As she spoke, a shadow of fear crossed her face.

“I know Duke calls me names and teases me sometimes, but I don’t hate him. I was worried when he was gone, so when the teacher wasn’t looking, I snuck out to find him. I found him in an empty classroom, lying on the floor. He wasn’t moving at all.”

“Did you tell a teacher right away?”

“Ms. Evans is new. I don’t know her very well, so I was too scared to say anything.”

“Did you see Duke again in class later?”

She seemed to struggle with the memory, her little face scrunched in concentration. “I… I don’t remember. I was so scared, the rest of the afternoon felt like a bad dream.”

I pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s okay, sweetie, you don’t have to be scared anymore. But if anything like this ever happens again, you have to promise to tell Mommy immediately.”

I poured her a glass of milk and put on her favorite cartoon, hoping to help her relax.

Just as she was settling down, the doorbell rang.

I peeked through the peephole. It was Duke’s mom.