My daughter introduced me to her new girlfriend — when she shook my hand, I noticed the tattoo I’d spent 18 years searching for.

Rachel looked around the table.

“It means no one gets erased again.”

Claire rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, and Rachel kissed her hair.

After eighteen years of locked doors, lies, and returned letters, we finally sat together beneath one roof—and this time, no one could make any of us disappear.

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