— She probably wanted a different life — said Harold.
Noah hated those words.
Because Lily would never have left without saying goodbye.
The years passed.
The missing person posters faded. The police stopped coming. The neighbors stopped asking. But Margaret never gave up. Lily’s room remained untouched—her books on the desk, her blue jacket behind the door, her mirror covered in dust.
Every evening Margaret whispered:
Every evening Margaret whispered:
— My daughter will be coming home.
Then, fifteen years later, Harold died.
The funeral was small. People called him « stern » and « old-fashioned. » Noah stood next to his mother and noticed something strange.
Margaret had cried for Lily for fifteen years.
But she did not cry for her father.
After the funeral, Noah and Daniel went to Harold’s old house to clear it out.
The house smelled of dust, medicine, and closed windows. Heavy curtains blocked the light. Family photos hung crookedly on the walls. Harold’s bedroom was at the end of the hall.
