Chapter 2

At 7:15 the next morning, my phone rang on the hotel nightstand.

It was Grant.

He didn't say good morning. He didn't apologize for last night.

"Chloe has school at eight," Grant said. His voice was rushed and impatient. "Where is her science project?"

For twelve years, I knew the answer with my eyes closed. I knew where she kept her books. I knew her class schedule.

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed and looked at the suitcase I had not unpacked.

"Ask her father," I said.

Grant froze. The line went completely silent.

"What?" he finally asked.

"I left the binder on the dining table before I checked into the hotel," I told him. "The Chloe Folder."

I pictured him standing in the kitchen, staring at that thick folder.

A small part of me still waited for him to ask whether I had slept or when I was coming home. He asked about the science project instead.

"It has everything," I said calmly. "School contacts. Doctor info. Allergy records. College application dates. Activity schedules."

I paused. "Everything you need is there."

Grant opened his mouth, then called toward the stairs. "Chloe, where did Lena put the project?"

Then, I heard a scuffle. Chloe snatched the phone from him.

"You just want us to realize how much we need you," Chloe sneered through the speaker. "You are just punishing me."

"No," I replied softly.

"Then why are you leaving everything behind?" she demanded.

My chest didn't hurt anymore. I just felt numb.

"Because you told me I was not supposed to do it," I said.

I hung up the phone.

Two hours later, my phone buzzed. It was a text message from an unknown number.

Hi Lena. It's Natalie. Can you send me Chloe's college list?

I stared at the screen. I had spent an entire year building that list. I tracked every deadline, every essay, and every requirement.

I deleted the message. If Natalie wanted the title of mother, she could begin by learning her daughter's plans from her daughter.

By noon, Grant called me again. He sounded exhausted and angry.

"Natalie is trying to take over the college prep," Grant snapped. "She wants to be a good mom, but you won't give her a chance."

"I left the folder," I said.

"A folder isn't enough, Lena!" Grant argued. "You don't have to like Natalie. But Chloe needs her."

I closed my eyes. The words echoed in my cold hotel room. Chloe needs her.

"She needs her," I repeated slowly.

"Yes," Grant said firmly.

I gripped the phone tight. "Then she doesn't need me."

I ended the call. I turned my phone on silent.

Night fell. The city lights flickered outside my window.

I opened my laptop on the small desk. I logged into my old, hidden email account. I hadn't checked it in years.

My inbox was full. There were hundreds of unread emails.

I scrolled down. I saw a familiar sender name.

They had sent me the exact same email every single year.

I clicked on one from five years ago.

We are still waiting for you.

I clicked on another from two years ago.

Your place is still here, Lena.

Tears pricked my eyes. I stared at the bright screen.

Twelve years ago, I didn't quit my life. I just pressed pause. I paused my own world to raise a frightened five-year-old girl. I paused everything so Grant could chase his dreams.

They thought I was just a housewife. They forgot who I really was.

I opened the very last email. The date was exactly three months ago.

It was short and simple.

If you ever decide to come back, the door is still open.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. For once, I answered before duty could silence me.

I hit reply.

I'm ready.

I took a deep, shaky breath.

Just one second later, a new email popped into my inbox.

I clicked it open.

Then don't wait another twelve years.

Come back.