I closed my eyes.
“I understand.”
But the truth was…
I didn’t.
Not anymore.
Every instinct inside me insisted I was getting closer.
Much closer.
After the call ended, I walked into Claire’s backyard.
The afternoon sun warmed the lavender bushes, filling the air with a scent Nana used to love.
She had planted lavender outside our old house because she’d read somewhere that it attracted butterflies.
“I want butterflies everywhere,” she’d told me.
She was nineteen then.
She believed tiny beautiful things could fix broken places.
I sat on the garden bench until sunset.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to imagine what seeing her again might look like.
Would she recognize me immediately?
Would she run into my arms?
Would she hesitate?
Would she blame me for believing Felix?
Would she think I’d stopped looking?
The thought shattered me.
“No,” I whispered into the evening air.
“I never stopped.”
…
The following morning, Detective Collins called before eight.
“We have the footage.”
I grabbed my keys before she finished speaking.
“I’m coming.”
“You should.”
Claire drove because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Every traffic light felt endless.
Every mile felt stolen.
When we arrived at the police department, Collins was already waiting.
Officer Phil stood beside a conference room door carrying a laptop.
Neither of them smiled.
That frightened me.
Inside the room, a large monitor had been connected to surveillance recordings from the bus terminal.
Collins pointed toward a chair.
“You may want to sit.”
“I’ll stand.”
She nodded.
The video began.
People moved in every direction.
Travelers dragging suitcases.
Families saying goodbye.
Children chasing one another.
The timestamp read twenty-three days earlier.
Marisol appeared first.
I recognized her immediately from the photograph.
She stood near a vending machine wearing a faded denim jacket.
A minute later…
Another woman entered the frame.
My heart stopped.
She wore a baseball cap pulled low.
Large sunglasses hid most of her face.
A gray hoodie concealed her figure.
She handed something small to Marisol.
The bracelet.
Marisol nodded.
The woman pressed an envelope into her hand.
Money.
Then she leaned close enough to whisper.
There was no audio.
Only movement.
Marisol answered with a single nod.
The woman turned to leave.
For two seconds…
Just two…
She lifted her sunglasses to wipe beneath one eye.
I lunged toward the screen.
“Stop.”
Officer Phil froze the image.
Everything inside me became still.
The woman’s eyes.
Blue.
Not just blue.
The exact pale blue I’d kissed goodnight for twenty-three years.
My knees weakened.
“Oh my God…”
Claire caught my arm.
“It could be coincidence,” Collins said carefully.
I shook my head.
“No.”
The detective remained silent.
I stepped closer to the monitor.
“There.”
I pointed.
“Zoom in.”
Officer Phil enlarged the image.
The quality deteriorated immediately.
Pixels blurred together.
Still…
I saw it.
A tiny white scar cutting through the woman’s right eyebrow.
When Nana was twelve, she’d climbed our backyard oak tree despite my repeated warnings.
She slipped.
One branch caught her face before Felix reached her.
The cut required six stitches.
The scar never disappeared completely.
My fingers touched the screen.
“That’s my daughter.”
No one spoke.
“I know that scar.”
Collins looked toward Phil.
He nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Facial recognition?” she asked.
“We’re running it now.”
Minutes crawled by.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The computer processed frame after frame.
Finally…
An analyst entered carrying a tablet.
“We have a result.”
Every heartbeat felt deafening.
“The software couldn’t make a positive identification.”
Hope crashed.
“But…”
Everyone looked at him.
“The similarity score is eighty-seven percent.”
My heart surged again.
“Eighty-seven?”
“The cap, sunglasses and camera angle reduce accuracy.”
“So it could still be her?”
“It absolutely could.”
I covered my mouth.
After ten years…
