She swallowed hard. “It’s about… these girls.”
Michael frowned. “What about them?”
“They’re not… here,” she said softly. “They live on my street.”
For a moment, the world felt impossibly still.
“What did you say?” The words caught in his throat.
She pointed to the names. “I know these names. There’s a lady who calls for two girls who look just like the ones on these stones. They live in a little blue house. I see them all the time.”
Michael’s heart pounded so fiercely he could hear it.
“Are you making this up?” he asked, voice tight.
“No, sir,” she whispered, tears brimming. “My mom’s sick. I don’t want anything except a little help for her. I’m not lying.”
He almost walked away. Almost. But honesty shone plainly in her eyes.
“How much do you need?” he asked quietly.
“Twenty dollars,” she murmured.
He handed her a hundred. “Show me where they live. If you’re telling the truth, I’ll give you much more.”
“You’ll see,” she said.
The Small Blue House
Following her directions, Michael drove across town. With every mile, his breath grew shallower. Eventually, they stopped in front of a worn blue house with peeling paint and a yard scattered with old toys.
Someone lived there. Recently, and often.
Michael’s legs shook as he approached the door and knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A faint shuffle came from inside before the door cracked open.
Hannah stood there.
His ex-wife. Pale, nervous, very much alive.
The air left his lungs.
Inside, in a small living room, two little girls sat on a couch—wide-eyed, clutching each other, uncertain and frightened.
Ava and Lily.
Real. Present. Looking back at him.
Michael dropped to his knees. Emotion surged through him—relief, shock, joy, and a wave of ache for the years lost.
“Dad?” Ava whispered.
But they didn’t run to him.
They didn’t remember him.
The Cost of Secrets
Hannah, trembling, tried to explain. She had been overwhelmed by pressure, old debts, and people who frightened her. Believing she couldn’t protect the girls, she had accepted help from someone who encouraged her to disappear. In the confusion that followed, official records were muddled, and Michael was left believing the worst without clear information.
“I was trying to keep them safe,” she said tearfully.
Michael shook his head, overwhelmed. “You kept them hidden from the person who loved them most.”
The girls cried softly, confused. Michael stepped outside to breathe. The little girl who had brought him there—Maddie—was waiting quietly by the fence.
“You weren’t lying,” he said.
“No, sir.”
