On the morning of his daughter’s third birthday, Callum leaves to buy a toy. When he returns, the house is silent, his wife is gone, and a note is waiting. As secrets unravel, Callum is forced to confront the truth about love, loss, and what it really means to stay.When I got home, the house was silent.No music. No humming from the kitchen. Just the faint tick of the clock and the soft buzz of the refrigerator.The cake sat on the counter, unfinished, with dark frosting smeared across the bowl like someone had stopped mid-breath. The knife leaned against the edge of the tub, and a balloon bobbed near the ceiling, its string tangled around a cabinet handle.

“Jess?” I called, louder than I meant to.Nothing.Our bedroom door was open. I walked in and stopped; Jess’s side of the closet was bare. The hangers, the floral ones she insisted on, swayed slightly as if recently disturbed. Her suitcase was gone, and so were most of her shoes.I barely kept myself upright as I limped down the hallway. Evie was asleep in her crib, her mouth open, with one hand resting on the duck’s head.”What the actual heck is this, Jess?” I mumbled as I gently shook Evie awake.My stomach knotted.Folded beside her was a note in Jess’s handwriting.”Callum,I’m sorry. I can’t stay anymore.Take care of our Evie. I made a promise to your mom, and I had to stick to it. Ask her.There had been music playing when I left.Jess had her hair pinned up, a smear of chocolate frosting across her cheek as she stood in the kitchen, humming off-key to a song on the radio. She was icing Evie’s birthday cake, dark, messy, and beautiful, just like our daughter had asked for.”Don’t forget, Callum,” she called over her shoulder. “She wants the one with the glittery wings.”