“Did your dad stop looking for me after he adopted you?”
My heart nearly stopped.
Another message followed.
“I need to know if he replaced me.”
Then a photograph appeared.
Emily.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably Emily.
Neither of us could breathe.
Nora immediately replied.
“He never stopped searching.”
She sent photos of Emily’s untouched bedroom.
The missing-person posters.
The memorial walks.
The white daisies.
Everything.
Emily answered only once.
“They told me he was happier without me.”
That evening Nora went to meet her.
Hours later she returned home.
She stood outside with tears streaming down her face.
Then she opened the front door.
Behind her stood a woman I hadn’t seen in ten years.
Emily.
I collapsed before I even realized my knees had given out.
“It’s me, Dad.”
I pulled her into my arms.
“I never stopped loving you.”
She cried harder.
“They told me you didn’t want me anymore.”
Emily finally explained everything.
After our argument, she had called her grandparents.
They picked her up and convinced her she should stay with them overnight.
The next morning they lied.
