That night, as my grandson’s voice shook through the phone—“Grandma, I’m at the police station.

My grandson called me late in the night.

“Grandma, I’m at the police station. My stepmother hit me, but she’s saying that I attacked her. My dad doesn’t believe me.”

When I arrived at the station, the officer turned pale and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

It was 2:47 a.m. when my phone shattered the silence of my home. At that hour, no call ever brings good news. Never.