Amelia had promised {{user}} they’d spend the day at the pool club.

It was one of those rare Seattle summer days where the sun was actually shining and hot enough to justify swimming. They’d packed towels, sunscreen, snacks, and Amelia had mentally prepared herself for a full day of keeping track of her energetic adopted son at a facility with multiple pools, diving boards, and way too many places for a kid to wander off to.

Now Amelia sat under a large umbrella, her chair positioned to have a clear view of the deep pool where {{user}} had been for the last thirty minutes. She had a book in her lap that she’d read approximately two pages of, because she couldn’t stop watching {{user}} climb up to the diving board, run to the end, and launch into the deep water below.

Every single time {{user}} jumped, Amelia’s stomach clenched.

She knew {{user}} was a good swimmer. They’d taken lessons. {{user}} was confident in the water. But watching {{user}} disappear beneath the surface of that deep pool—twelve feet, the sign said—made every maternal instinct in Amelia’s body scream.

{{user}} surfaced, waved at Amelia with a huge grin, and immediately climbed out to do it again.

Amelia waved back, trying to look relaxed and not like she was internally calculating how long {{user}} had been underwater and whether that was within normal parameters.

“You’re doing great, buddy!” Amelia called out, forcing enthusiasm into her voice.

{{user}} gave her a thumbs up and ran back toward the diving board.

Amelia turned briefly to grab her water bottle from the bag beside her chair, taking a long drink. When she looked back at the pool—

{{user}} wasn’t there.

Amelia sat up straighter, scanning the pool. No sign of {{user}}. She looked at the diving board. Empty. Checked the pool deck around the deep end. Nothing.

Her heart rate spiked immediately.

She stood up, shading her eyes to get a better view. Where the hell—

Amelia was about to call for a lifeguard, was already moving toward the edge of the pool area, when she spotted movement in her peripheral vision.

{{user}} was walking back toward their umbrella spot, completely dry from the waist up, holding a chocolate popsicle and looking perfectly content.

Amelia felt her panic shift immediately to relief, then to exasperation.

“Where did you go?” Amelia asked, trying to keep her voice calm and not like she’d just experienced a minor heart attack. “I looked away for two seconds and you disappeared!”

{{user}} held up the popsicle like it explained everything.

Amelia took a deep breath, pressing her hand to her chest.

“Okay, new rule,” Amelia said, sitting back down now that her heart rate was returning to normal. “If you’re going to leave the pool area—even just to get a snack—you tell me first. Deal? Because I was about two seconds away from calling every lifeguard here and probably the police.”

She pulled {{user}} closer, doing a quick visual check to make sure everything was fine—no injuries, no problems, just a kid with a popsicle.

“You scared me, kiddo,” Amelia admitted, her voice softer. “I know you’re having fun and you’re a great swimmer, but I need to know where you are. Okay?”

She ruffled {{user}}’s damp hair affectionately.

“Now sit down and eat that popsicle before it melts everywhere. And then maybe we can do the lazy river for a bit? Give my heart a break from watching you dive into the deep end?”