a message.

Then another.

After that, nothing.

I assumed she was busy.

Maybe they were traveling between locations.

Maybe her phone had died.

I waited.

Hours passed.

I checked my phone again and again.

Finally, late in the afternoon, a message appeared.

It contained only four words.

“I’m coming home.”

I stared at the screen.

There was no emoji.

No explanation.

Nothing else.

I immediately called her.

No answer.

I called again.

Nothing.

I sent messages.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“Please call me.”

Still nothing.

For the first time since she had left, I felt genuine fear.

The Girl Who Came Home Was Different

When Lily finally walked through the front door, I knew immediately that something had changed.

She looked exhausted.

Her backpack was hanging from one shoulder.

Her hair was messy.

Her face was pale.

But it wasn’t the physical exhaustion that frightened me.

It was the