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When the house was finally quiet that night, I crept down the hall to Emily's room.
The door creaked as it opened, as if hesitant to let me in. His bed wasn't made yet, a crumpled hoodie lay at his feet. Her biology textbook lay next to her pillow, open to a page she'd highlighted in pink.
I sat down slowly, as if she still needed space. I ran my fingers over the spine of the book and then reached for his clothes. One by one, I folded them slowly, not because they needed to be folded, but because I felt like touching them again.
The smell of her shampoo clung to the pillowcase. His walls were still covered with Polaroids of his friends, our dog Max, and a few selfies with me.
We laughed at each of them. I blinked rapidly, trying to wipe away my tears.
"I miss you, baby," I whispered. "I miss you so much."
Then I saw his backpack slumped in a corner, as if he were waiting for Monday morning.
I knelt down next to it and slowly opened it. I rummaged through notebooks and pens, all the little things that hadn't seemed important to me until now.
There was a folded piece of paper in his history book. I took it out and slowly unfolded it.
"Mom, if you read this, look under my bed. You'll understand everything."
My breath caught. My hands grew cold as the ink blurred slightly from the heat of my fingers.
Emily's handwriting. Precise and deliberate. She had to write this with shaky hands, but her instructions were clear. She must have written it after her argument with David, as if she knew I would come looking for answers if he didn't give them to me.
I turned toward the door, empty and silent, and knelt down, my heart beating in a strange rhythm. My fingers groped under the bed until they touched something cardboard, something heavy.
I pulled a dusty black box from the far corner and sat back on my heels. My whole body trembled, as if I already knew that what was inside me would change everything.
I lifted the lid.
Inside was a small envelope with photos and a digital voice recorder.
The first photo made me nauseous. David was accompanied by a woman I didn't recognize, her arm casually around his waist. He wasn't just posing, he was smiling.
Another photo, again of David, with a small child in his arms. The child had the same big brown eyes as Emily.
“No,” I whispered, even though no one could hear me.
I opened the envelope. More photos. There were printed screenshots of bank transfers, hotel reservations, GPS coordinates, and a receipt from a jewelry store. All of this was from the past seven years.
