The first thing I noticed was the silence.
My daughter Maisie, three months old then, usually woke every few hours. Waking to silence felt wrong.
The monitor showed white noise. Erin wasn’t beside me.
“Probably feeding Maisie,” I said, crossing the cold floor.
Maisie was in her crib, warm and asleep, clutching Erin’s gray hoodie—its drawstring torn out. I noticed but didn’t think much of it.
Erin should’ve been up by 6:14 a.m., making coffee, doing dishes—her wedding ring was in its dish, unworn. Her phone sat on the counter. But there was no sign of her.
My wife had vanished.
I called hospitals, texted everyone, waited by the driveway. People offered well-meaning guesses: postpartum depression, panic, needing space. My mom even said I “missed the signs.”
I didn’t clear the house. I kept her things. When Maisie asked at four if Mommy went to heaven, I said no—she left, but it wasn’t love that drove her away.
When Maisie was five, she pointed at the TV. It was Erin—older, tired—introduced as a singer. She spoke directly to us, apologized, and explained she’d left because she felt she was drowning and didn’t want to become someone her daughter wouldn’t recognize. She said she’d spent five years finding herself and now wanted to return.
She showed the frayed drawstring she kept all those years.
Then my phone buzzed: Unknown Number.
I’m outside… Mark.
Erin stood on the porch, unsure if she’d be welcome. Maisie saw her first, calling her “Mommy.” Erin said she loved us and explained she stayed away until she was ready, that she’d sent anonymous money for Maisie through my mom.
Maisie asked if Erin had been at her recital. Erin admitted she’d been too scared to come close, but she’d been there.
I told Erin to turn off her car and come in. Inside, I told her we’d talk after Maisie was asleep.
Erin said therapy helped her, that she found herself and even a talent for singing. She wanted Maisie to sing with her once.
I said no.
Erin didn’t argue. She said she’d stay only if I let her earn her way back.
I said Maisie could see her, but on my terms.
Erin left, thanking me for not shutting the door.
The house wasn’t silent anymore.