As they left, the enormity of the situation crashed over me. Emma and I stood in the silence of our home, feeling its warmth and safety slip away. The pictures on the walls, the memories of laughter and love—they seemed distant, almost mocking.

“Mom,” Emma said, her voice small, “I’m sorry.”

I pulled her close, holding her tighter than ever before. “No, sweetheart. You did the right thing. We’ll figure this out together.”

But as I looked out into the descending night, I knew that the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, and the answers we sought might unravel everything we once believed.