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It became part of our household rhythm—predictable, unremarkable, and reassuring. I had no reason to question it. Until one ordinary evening, when the routine cracked. Jordan had just walked out the door with her bag when I sent Tessa a friendly message, inviting her to my upcoming birthday gathering and thanking her for always hosting Jordan. The reply came quickly—and it stopped my heart cold. Tessa wrote that Jordan hadn’t stayed at her house for weeks.
I immediately called her, my hands shaking. Tessa sounded genuinely confused and concerned. She explained that when I stopped texting to confirm Jordan’s arrival, she assumed the girls had simply moved on from sleepovers, as teenagers often do. After we hung up, dread settled heavily in my chest. I called Jordan right away. She answered casually, insisting she was at Alyssa’s house. But when I told her I was on my way to pick her up, her voice wavered.
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