I parked in the driveway.
She didn’t move.
Her eyes locked on the house—the porch, the wind chime, the worn door. The color drained from her face.
“Michael…” she whispered. “You live here?”
“Yeah… I’ve always lived here.”
Her breathing became shallow.
“I don’t want to go in. Can we reschedule? I don’t feel well.”
I reached for her hand, but she flinched.
“It’s just dinner,” I said gently.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I can’t do this. Not yet.”
“What do you mean? Kara, you’re scaring me.”
Before she could answer, the front door opened.
“Dad! Is that Kara?”
Isabelle stood there, smiling.
Kara stared at her, frozen.
Then a sob escaped her.
“It’s really you… I never thought I’d see you again.”
Time seemed to stop.
“Do I know you?” Isabelle asked carefully.
Kara shook her head. “You wouldn’t remember me. But I’ve never forgotten you. Not in twenty years.”
I looked between them, confused.
“Let’s go inside,” I said. “We’ll talk.”
We sat at the kitchen table in silence.
Finally, I said, “Kara… what’s going on?”
She clenched her hands.
“I know this house. I knew it the moment we arrived.”
Isabelle frowned. “How?”
Kara’s voice broke.
“Because twenty years ago, I stood on that porch… and left a baby in a basket. I left you, Isabelle.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
“I was nineteen,” Kara continued. “My parents said keeping you would ruin everything. They forced me to give you up. But I was the one who walked away.”
I remembered the old woman across the street—her aunt.
“She told me a kind doctor lived here,” Kara said. “I thought… you’d be safe.”
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