Late One Night, I Heard My Daughter Whisper, “I Miss You, Dad” on the Phone — But He Died 18 Years Ago

It was a normal evening. The dishes were drying. The TV hummed softly in the background. I was walking past the hallway when I heard Susie’s voice coming from the landline phone—one we almost never used anymore.

Soft. Careful.

“Okay, Dad,” she said.

A pause.

“I miss you too.”

I froze.

My heart slammed so violently I had to grab the wall to steady myself. Before I could speak, she noticed me. Her eyes widened. She hung up immediately—the click of the receiver echoing through the house.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay calm.

“No one,” she replied too fast. “Wrong number.”

Then she disappeared into her room, closing the door quietly—so gently it hurt more than if she’d slammed it.

That night, sleep refused to come. My thoughts spiraled. Susie had never lied to me like that. Fear and confusion twisted together until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went to the kitchen and checked the landline’s call history.

The number meant nothing to me.

My hands shook as I dialed it.

Three rings.

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