The sign outside the building was unclear, partially obscured, but something about it made my stomach drop. Mike returned to the car alone. Time passed. Far too much time.
Nothing explicit appeared on the screen, but the absence of clarity was worse. Why come here? Why keep it secret? Why lie?
I barely slept that night. By morning, I felt hollow.
The footage had not given me answers. It had only magnified my fear.
That evening, I could not keep it inside any longer. After dinner, I asked Vivian to sit down with us. Mike joined us in the living room, unaware of what was coming.
I told them what I had done. I asked directly where my daughter was being taken and why it had been hidden from me.
Vivian spoke first, her voice trembling. She said it had been her idea to keep it secret. She was sure I would not understand.
The room went quiet.
Mike finally explained. The place was a dance studio. Vivian had been taking evening classes there for months. Dance was something she loved deeply, something she had not told me about because she believed I would say no.
Her words cut deeper than anything I had imagined.
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