So I went.

I got married while my daughter stayed home.

It was the worst mistake I could have made.

When we returned, Anna was gone.

At first, I thought she had simply gone to a friend’s house.

Then I found the letter.

It was short.

She said she never wanted to see me again.

My hands shook as I read it.

I called her phone.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

I contacted relatives.

Her friends.

Everyone who might know where she was.

Nobody did.

I called the police.

But Anna was eighteen.

She was legally an adult, and there was no evidence she had been forced to leave.

The police told me that because she appeared to have left voluntarily, there was little they could do.

For the next month, I barely slept.

Every unfamiliar car outside made me look through the window.

Every phone notification made my heart race.