The pool party was meant to be easy and warm—just family, sunshine, and the sound of children playing.

I spent the morning wiping down the patio, setting out towels, and filling a cooler with juice. When my son Ryan arrived with his wife Melissa and their two children, everything looked normal at first.

But Lily didn’t run toward the pool like her older brother did.

She climbed out of the car slowly and sat on the edge of the terrace, quietly picking at the hem of her dress. Her shoulders were slumped, and she avoided everyone’s eyes. I walked over with her swimsuit and knelt beside her.

“Sweetheart,” I said gently, “would you like to go change? The water feels really nice today.”

She shook her head without looking up. “My tummy hurts,” she whispered.

I reached out to smooth her hair, but she flinched. That small movement startled me. Lily was usually affectionate—always hugging, always laughing. This wasn’t like her at all.

Before I could ask more, Ryan’s voice came sharply from behind me.
“Mom, leave her alone.”

“I’m just checking on her,” I replied, confused.

Melissa stepped in quickly, her smile tight. “She’s sensitive,” she said. “If we give her attention, she gets more upset. Please don’t interfere.”