“Emily hasn’t attended school for an entire week.”
The coffee cup nearly slipped out of my hand.
A whole week.
Every morning, I had watched her leave the house.
Backpack over her shoulder.
Books inside.
Wearing the same ordinary clothes she always wore to school.
Sometimes she even called out,
“Dad, I’m going to be late.”
And I would nod while continuing to stare at my phone.
That day, for the first time, I asked myself where my daughter had actually been going.
I said nothing to her that evening.
The next morning, Emily left the house at exactly the same time as usual.
I waited a few minutes and followed her.
At first, she walked toward the school.
Then suddenly, she stopped.
She looked to the right.
Then to the left.
And turned down a narrow street.
My heart started pounding.
She reached an old park on the edge of town, walked behind a row of trees, and approached some tall bushes.
