That’s when my daughter’s expression shifted – confusion, then fear. She noticed hesitantly and muttered,

“Mom… what’s that?”
Across the baby’s belly and thighs were bluish-purple marks — small bruises, as if someone had grabbed her too tightly.

I froze.

“Sweetheart,” I muttered, “did you do this?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “No, Mommy! I just kissed her!” Her voice quivered on the edge of tears.

My heart started pounding. I grabbed my phone and called my sister immediately. When she answered, I told her what I’d seen.

There was a long silence. Then she spoke – calm, flat, almost hollow.

“It was me.”

At first, I couldn’t comprehend. “What do you mean… you?”

“I did it,” she said quietly.

 

“She cried all night. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. I didn’t mean to hurt her