“I need to know if he replaced me.”
Then a photograph appeared.
Emily.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably Emily.
Neither of us could breathe.
Nora immediately replied.
“He never stopped searching.”
She sent photos of Emily’s untouched bedroom.
The missing-person posters.
The memorial walks.
The white daisies.
Everything.
Emily answered only once.
“They told me he was happier without me.”
That evening Nora went to meet her.
Hours later she returned home.
She stood outside with tears streaming down her face.
Then she opened the front door.
Behind her stood a woman I hadn’t seen in ten years.
Emily.
