He and Mara returned home around noon, carrying leftovers from her mother’s dinner and laughing about their night. The laughter stopped the moment Mara saw the note on the table.
She picked it up slowly.
“Daniel… read this.”
He scanned the words, his face draining. “What does she mean… Do not follow me? Where would she go?”
Mara shook her head hard, panic rising. “Why would she leave? She knows we needed her today.”
Daniel paced the kitchen, opening cabinets as if I might be hiding behind one.
“Mom. Mom, are you here?”
His voice cracked.
Mara pulled out her phone. “Check the garage. Her car is still—wait. She used a taxi.”
They found the empty corner where my suitcase used to be. Then the panic became real.
Within hours, the cracks in their perfectly organized life showed themselves. Leo refused to nap. Clara cried when she realized I wasn’t in my room. The dishes piled up. Bottles sat unwashed.
Mara shouted from upstairs, “Daniel, I cannot do this right now. I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”
“I’m trying,” he snapped back. “She never left before. She always handled everything.”
Bills arrived in the afternoon mail—a stack of them. Electricity. Insurance. Water. Daniel stared at them, confused.
“Mom paid all of this.”
Their argument grew sharper. Mara slammed a door.
Daniel grabbed his keys and drove to the police station.
“She’s seventy-one,” he told the officer. “She lives with us. She left a note. She hasn’t come back.”
The officer read the note twice. “She left voluntarily. This isn’t a missing person situation.”
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