For a moment, there was only breathing. Not calm. Not sleepy. It was uneven and wet, the sound of someone trying not to be heard while quietly coming apart.
“Dad,” she whispered. Then her voice cracked. “Please… please come get me.”
I sat bolt upright, the room spinning. “Emily, where are you? What’s going on?”
“I’m at Mark’s parents’ house,” she said, her voice thin, trembling—like she was hiding somewhere small. “I can’t… I can’t leave.”
“What do you mean you can’t leave? Put Mark on the phone.”
“No!” Panic sliced through her words. “No, don’t. Just—Dad, I need you.”
The call went dead.
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