The night Laura disappeared, the garden glowed with Christmas lights. It was her wedding night, and she danced barefoot, radiant and joyful. I found her by the lemonade stand, laughing—but there was a flicker in her eyes, something I missed. By morning, she was gone. She hadn’t stayed in the hotel room.
Her gown was untouched. No note, no phone calls. The police searched everywhere. Nothing. Her absence shattered our family. I moved into her room, boxed her things, and tried to move on. Ten years passed.
