When school ended that afternoon, our father was waiting by the gate instead of Mom. Even at seven, I could tell something was wrong. His eyes were swollen and red, and his hands trembled as he reached for ours. “Where’s Mommy?” Lily asked immediately. Dad swallowed hard before answering. “Your mother isn’t coming today.” I tugged on his sleeve. “When is she coming back?” He looked away before whispering, “I don’t know.” That night we waited by the window. The next night we waited again. Then another. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. But our mother never...
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