My daughters were sleeping in their bassinets, but Suzie was gone. I thought she might have stepped out for fresh air, but then I saw the note. I tore it open, my hands trembling. “Goodbye. Take care of them. Ask your mother WHY she did this to me.” The world blurred as I reread it. And reread it. The words didn’t shift, didn’t morph into something less terrible. A coldness prickled along my skin, freezing me in place.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“I hope so,” Sara said quietly. “Suzie’s stronger than she thinks. But Ben… keep looking for her.”

One afternoon, while Callie and Jessica napped, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unlisted number.

When I opened it, my breath caught. It was a photo of Suzie, holding the twins at the hospital, her face pale but serene. Beneath it was a message:

“I wish I was the type of mother they deserve. I hope you forgive me.”

I called the number immediately, but it didn’t go through.

I texted back, but my messages didn’t go through either. It was like shouting into a void. But the photo reignited my determination. Suzie was out there. She was alive and at least a part of her still longed for us, even though she was clearly still in a bad place. I’d never give up on her.

A year passed with no leads or clues to Suzie’s whereabouts. The twins’ first birthday was bittersweet. I’d poured everything into raising them, but the ache for Suzie never left.

That evening, as the girls played in the living room, there was a knock at the door.