When Mark’s wife disappears without a single explanation, he’s forced to raise their infant daughter on his own. Five years later, a random moment in front of the television cracks open everything he believed he’d made peace with. When the past shows up at his door, Mark is left wondering whether abandonment can ever truly be reversed.
The first thing that struck me was the quiet.
Maisie was only three months old back then. She woke every few hours like clockwork, hungry and restless. So waking up to complete silence—deep, unbroken silence—felt wrong. Unnatural.
I glanced at the baby monitor on the nightstand. The screen glowed with static.
I sat upright. Erin wasn’t beside me.
“She’s probably feeding Maisie,” I muttered, throwing the blanket aside as I stood. The hallway floor was icy under my bare feet as I walked toward the nursery.
Maisie was still asleep in her crib, wrapped snugly in a fleece blanket. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth, her tiny chest rising and falling in soft, steady breaths. She looked peaceful. Safe.
In her hand, she was gripping the sleeve of Erin’s favorite gray hoodie.
Erin had worn that hoodie through two winters and every stage of her pregnancy. I leaned closer and noticed something odd. The drawstring was gone, torn cleanly from one side. One frayed end dangled loose.
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