“I told her she couldn’t stay here anymore.” My suitcase slipped from my hand.
“You did WHAT?” “She’s an adult,” he replied. “I’m tired of her staying here, eating our food, and depending on my paycheck.”
I became extremely upset. I demanded that Adrian tell me where Sophie had gone.
He claimed he didn’t know. That night, I seriously considered leaving him.
But the house was in his name. My small salary barely covered everyday expenses.
And Adrian constantly reminded me who paid the mortgage. So I stayed. But I searched for Sophie.
I called her hundreds of times. Contacted her friends. Medical centers.
Shelters. Local authorities. Nothing. Sophie never answered. It was as though my daughter had simply disappeared from our lives.
Then, exactly one year later, someone knocked on the door while Adrian was at work.
I opened it. Sophie stood on the porch. She looked thinner than I remembered and wore a worn gray coat.
