Fear slammed into me like a fist, but this time it landed on the truth. In the hush of that parking lot, with the red pickup idling like a threat that had finally learned to show its face, Denise’s fingers moved so gently it felt like sacrilege. When the toy rabbit’s seam split and the tracker slid into her palm, the world tilted; every coincidence, every “Where are you now?” text, every sudden appearance snapped into a single, merciless line. My daughters clung to me, their breaths sharp and shallow, as if they, too, understood that the story I’d been telling myself about love had just been torn open and left blee… Continues…
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