2 hours after my daughter’s funeral, my doctor suddenly called: “Ma’am, come to my office right now. Please don’t tell anyone.” As I arrived, I began to tremble as I saw the person standing in front of me…

Two hours after my daughter Lily’s funeral, I was still wearing the black dress I’d laid her to rest in. My hands carried the faint scent of flowers and damp earth. I sat on the edge of my bed, hollow and unmoving, staring into the silence when my phone rang.

It was Dr. Adrian Clarke—our longtime family doctor, the man who had watched Lily grow from a round-cheeked toddler into a bright, headstrong sixteen-year-old.

His voice shook when he spoke.