Everything was packed and ready for our long-awaited Aruba trip—until my passport mysteriously vanished the morning we were due to leave. But when my mother-in-law, Donna, coolly said, “Maybe you weren’t meant to go,” I realized this wasn’t an accident. Someone had taken it. But how could I prove it to my husband? I swear, I almost didn’t go on that trip. Not because I didn’t want to—oh, I desperately wanted to—but because someone else had decided I shouldn’t. Let me start at the beginning. We had been planning this

On a quiet, sunlit road, a car cruised along, its tires humming softly against the pavement. Inside, behind the wheel, was Chandler, his usual cheerful expression in place. He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers, his other hand scrolling through his playlist. The golden sunlight bathed his face, making his smile even warmer. Next to him sat Macy, arms crossed, gaze fixed firmly outside the window. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her posture stiff. She looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but here. Chandler,

Emily had dreamed of this moment for years. After endless longing, her wish had finally come true—she had given birth to three beautiful daughters. Sophie, Lily, and Grace. Perfect in every way. She gazed at them, her heart swelling with love. Their tiny hands, their peaceful faces—it was all she had ever wanted. But then, everything shattered. Jack, her husband, stood by the hospital room door, looking like he’d seen a ghost. His face was pale, his hands stuffed into his pockets, and he wouldn’t even meet her eyes. “Jack?”