I was seven years old the final time I laid eyes on my mom.
It started as a normal morning. Rose was tying my twin sister Lucy’s hair in braids at the dining table while I struggled with my shoelaces on the floor.
She gave us both a kiss on the forehead before we got into the car.
“I will get you girls after classes,” she told us. “I care about you both more than the entire sky.”
Those were the final words she ever spoke to us.
Later that day, Dad was the one standing by the school gate. His eyes looked bloodshot, and his hands kept trembling.
“Where is Mom?” Lucy asked.
“Your mother… is not showing up, honey,” he said quietly.
“When will she return?” I pulled on his shirt. “Dad, when?”
“I have no idea, sweetie. I really do not know.”
We stayed up waiting that evening. And the following one. And the one after that.
But Mom had vanished.
Three months later, Amber stepped into our living room carrying presents, a casserole, and a smile that made me uneasy, even though I was too young to understand why.
“Kids, meet Amber, my close friend from the office,” Dad said gently. “She is going to help us for a bit.”
