Lila and Max

Secrets

"Mom, why do the stars twinkle?" a small voice called from the bedroom. The question hung in the air, innocent and earnest.

Marianne sighed, setting down the dish she'd been scrubbing and wiping her hands on a towel. "They're not really stars, sweetie," she called back, trying to keep the weariness out of her voice. "They're just streetlights reflecting off the fog."

"But why do they look like stars?" the voice persisted. It was her daughter, Lila, again with the questions. It seemed like every night she had a new one, and tonight was no exception. Marianne's mind raced, searching for the simplest explanation.

"Because the fog makes it seem like they're moving, honey," she offered, hoping it would be enough to satisfy Lila's curiosity. She didn't have the energy for a full astronomy lesson tonight. The kitchen clock ticked away the minutes, each one heavier than the last. Marianne's thoughts drifted to her own unanswered questions, the ones that kept her awake long after she'd tucked Lila in. Why had Max, their old golden retriever, disappeared without a trace? And why had her husband's moods grown so dark and unpredictable?

But she couldn't burden Lila with those. Not yet. She took a deep breath and walked down the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. Pushing the door open, she found Lila sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with wonder. The room was a soft blue, bathed in the glow of the nightlight.

"They're like little secrets, aren't they?" Lila said, peering out the window. "Maybe Max is looking at them too, wherever he is."

Marianne's heart pinched at the mention of their missing pet. She sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing Lila's hair. "Maybe," she murmured. "But for now, let's just think of them as pretty lights to help us sleep."

As she tucked Lila back in, Marianne noticed the shadows playing across her daughter's face, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. It was a reflection of her own fears, mirrored in the one person she'd give anything to protect.

"Promise me you won't go looking for him again," she said gently. "It's not safe out there."

Lila nodded, her lower lip trembling. "But he's been gone so long, Mom. What if he's lost?"

Marianne felt a lump rise in her throat. She didn't have the heart to tell Lila about the fights she'd had with her husband, the accusations thrown like knives in the quiet of the night. The way his eyes had searched the horizon, as if he could will Max to come back. The way he'd slammed the door when she'd suggested calling the pound.

"We'll keep looking," she lied, pressing a kiss to Lila's forehead. "But only during the day, okay?"

The little girl's eyes grew heavy with sleep, the question of the stars and the whereabouts of their dog forgotten for the moment. Marianne watched her drift off, her mind racing with thoughts of the mysteries that seemed to be piling up around them. The quiet hum of the house was a stark contrast to the turmoil in her thoughts. As she tiptoed out of the room, she couldn't shake the feeling that the twinkling lights outside were whispering their own secrets, hinting at a world much larger and more complex than the one she'd tried to explain to Lila.