Her Stepmother Packed Her Bedroom Into Trash Bags While Her Dad Was Away—Then He Came Home Early

Maya knew something was wrong before she reached her bedroom.

There were black trash bags lining the upstairs hallway.

Six of them.

Then seven.

One had her favorite gray hoodie sticking out of the top.

Maya stopped.

“Lauren?”

Her stepmother answered from inside Maya’s room.

“Up here.”

Maya walked toward the doorway.

Her desk drawers were open.

Books had been removed from the shelves.

Several framed photographs were stacked on the floor.

Her stepmother was holding another empty trash bag.

Maya stared at her.

“What are you doing?”

Lauren didn’t stop packing.

“Getting this room ready.”

“For what?”

Lauren finally looked at her.

“For the baby.”