I wasn’t even trying to eavesdrop. I was just walking past the playroom with a load of laundry, expecting the usual chaos—blocks everywhere, toy truck collisions, someone probably yelling.
But it was quiet.
Too quiet.
So I peeked in, and there they were. My oldest, Jalen, cross-legged on the floor, holding up a board book with little diggers and loaders drawn on the pages. And baby Kai, strapped into his bouncer, wide-eyed and completely locked in like this was the most important story in the world.
Jalen was reading to him with such focus and care, his voice soft and steady as he moved his finger across the pages, narrating the adventures of the tiny trucks. At first, it was just a sweet moment between siblings. But then, just as I was about to turn and leave, Jalen said something that made my heart stop.
“One day, I’ll be your big protector, Kai,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on the little boy, his words slow and deliberate. “I’ll make sure nobody hurts you. I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means doing bad things. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”
I froze. My stomach twisted with unease. Jalen was only eleven. The words he had just spoken didn’t sound like something a child his age should be saying. Sure, he was protective of his little brother, but bad things? That didn’t sit right with me.