Every year before my birthday, I set the table for three\u2014me, my husband, and our daughter Karen\u2014but her seat always stayed empty. This year, turning 47, her absence weighed heavier than ever. Karen hadn\u2019t spoken to me since I divorced her dad, Mark, blaming me for breaking up our family. She didn\u2019t just withdraw\u2014she vanished. I hadn\u2019t heard her voice or seen her face in years despite countless calls, texts, and letters.<\/p>\n
Fed up with the silence and desperate for answers, I drove to my ex\u2019s house. The place was neglected, like a shell of its former self. My anxiety grew as I rang the doorbell. Mark answered, worn and hollow-eyed, but he let me in without a word. Inside was dusty, quiet, and empty\u2014no sign of Karen.<\/p>\n
Shaking with fear and hope, I asked where she was and if she was okay. Mark looked stricken, unable to meet my eyes. Then he whispered, \u201cYour daughter is\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
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