When I finally pulled into the driveway that evening, I was 15 minutes late.
Fifteen minutes doesn’t sound like much to most people. But in our house, 15 minutes mattered.
It was enough time for the twins to start asking for dinner. Enough time for Jyll to send me a message saying, “Where are you?” Enough time for bedtime to start slipping out of control.
And the moment I stopped the car, I felt it.
Something was wrong.
The driveway was too clean. No tiny sneakers tossed on the steps. No backpacks dumped by the door. No chalk drawings on the concrete. No jump rope tangled in the grass.
The porch light was off.
Jyll always turned it on at six.
I checked my phone.
No missed calls.
No angry texts.
Nothing.
I sat there for a second with my hand on the steering wheel, the weight of the whole day pressing behind my eyes. My shirt collar was still damp from the rain, and the only sound around me was a lawnmower humming somewhere down the street.
No calls. No messages.
I reached for the doorknob and paused.
When I stepped inside, it wasn’t just quiet.
It was wrong.
The TV was off.
The lights were off.
Dinner—mac and cheese—was still sitting in the pot on the stove, untouched, like someone had walked away in the middle of cooking.
“Hello?” I called, dropping my keys onto the table harder than I meant to. “Jyll? Girls?”
Nothing answered me.
The kitchen lights were still off.
I kicked off my shoes and turned toward the living room, already pulling my phone out to call Jyll—
And then I saw her.
Mikayla, the babysitter, stood awkwardly near the armchair, her phone clutched in her hand. Her face was tight, like she was holding something back.
She looked up fast when she saw me.
“Zach,” she said, her voice shaky, “I was just about to call you.”
My heart skipped.
“Why?” I asked, stepping closer. “Where’s Jyll?”
She nodded toward the couch.
Emma and Lily were curled up together, still wearing their shoes. Their backpacks were tossed on the floor beside them like they’d been dropped in a hurry.
“Jyll called me around four,” Mikayla explained. “She said she needed to take care of something and asked if I could come over. I thought it was just errands or—”
“Where’s Jyll?” I asked again.
I knelt in front of my girls.
“Emma, Lily… what’s going on?”
Emma blinked slowly and said, very calmly, “Mom said goodbye, Daddy.”
My chest tightened. “What do you mean, goodbye?”
“She said goodbye forever,” Emma added.
“What?” I said sharply. “Did she say that?”
Lily nodded, staring at the floor. “She took her suitcases.”
“And she hugged us,” Emma whispered. “For a long time. And she cried.”
Lily sniffed. “She said you’d explain it to us.”
My stomach dropped.
“She said you’d explain it to us,” Lily repeated. “What does that mean, Daddy?”
I looked up at Mikayla. Her lips were trembling.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she said quietly. “They’ve been like this since I got here. Jyll was already walking out when I arrived. I tried to stop her, but she just said—”
“She said you’d explain it to us.”
I stood up, my heart pounding hard now, and walked straight to the bedroom.
The closet told me everything.
Jyll’s side was empty.
Her favorite pale blue sweater—the fluffy one she wore whenever she was sick—was gone. Her makeup bag was gone. Her laptop was gone.
And the framed photo of the four of us at the beach last summer?
Gone.
Every piece of her life… gone.
Then I walked back into the kitchen.
On the counter, next to my coffee mug, sat a folded piece of paper.
My hands shook as I opened it.
“Zach,
I think you deserve a new beginning with the girls.
Please don’t blame yourself. Just… don’t.
But if you want answers, I think it’s best you ask your mom.
All my love,
Jyll”
Ask your mom.
My hands were still shaking when I called the school.
Straight to voicemail.
I hung up and called the aftercare number Jyll always used.
“Aftercare,” a tired woman answered.
“This is Zach,” I said. “Did my wife pick up the twins today?”
There was a pause.
“No, sir. Your wife called earlier to confirm the babysitter. But your mother came by yesterday.”
“My mother?” I repeated.
“She asked about changing pickup permissions and requested copies of records. We refused. It didn’t feel appropriate.”
I stared at Jyll’s note again.
Ask your mom.
I didn’t have time to fall apart.
I helped the girls into their jackets, grabbed their backpacks, and led them to the car.
“I can stay with them if you want,” Mikayla offered gently. “Pizza, bath time—”
“No,” I said. “Thank you. They need me right now.”
The drive to my mother’s house was silent.
Lily hummed softly, then stopped. Emma tapped her fingers against the window.
“You girls okay back there?” I asked.
Emma shrugged. “Is Mommy mad?”
“No, sweetheart,” I said. “She’s just… figuring things out.”
“Are we going to Grandma Carol’s?”
“Yes.”
Emma met my eyes in the mirror. “Does Grandma know where Mommy went?”
“We’re going to find out.”
But deep down, I already knew.
My mother never helped. She hovered. She controlled. She kept score.
She called Jyll selfish for working. She pushed her way into therapy sessions and shut them down. She said Jyll was weak.
And I stayed quiet.
When my mother opened the door, she looked surprised.
“Zach?” she said. “Shouldn’t you be home?”
“What did you do?” I asked, holding up the note.
“Are the girls with you?” she asked, peering past me.
“Come in,” she said quickly. “We’ll talk.”
In the den, I faced her.
“Jyll is gone,” I said. “What did you do?”
My mother sighed. “I always worried she’d run.”
“That was six years ago,” I snapped. “You think she stayed broken forever?”
“She was never well,” my mother said calmly. “She needed structure.”
“You controlled her.”
“She wasn’t fit,” she said. “I did what I had to do.”
I opened the desk drawer.
Inside was a file.
Emergency Custody Protocol.
My name. Jyll’s name.
Forged signatures.
“You forged my signature?” I whispered.
“It was a precaution,” she said.
I grabbed the file and walked out.
That night, I lay between my daughters, staring at the ceiling.
The next morning, I found Jyll’s journal.
It broke me.
And by noon, my mother was cut off.
That night, I called Jyll.
“I’m so sorry,” I told her. “I should have chosen you.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“I’ll wait for you,” I promised.
Three days later, a package arrived.
Inside was a photo of Jyll at the beach, smiling.
And a note:
“Thank you for seeing me, Zach. I hope I can come home soon.”
I folded it carefully.
This time, the porch light stayed on.
And I waited.