I didn’t know.
For thirteen years, I had told myself that his disappearance was simply another wound I couldn’t heal.
But now there was a question buried inside Ethan’s final letter.
A question that had been waiting for us.
Daniel took out his phone.
“I found him.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Your ex-husband.”
My heart dropped.
“Where?”
“Three years ago, I started looking.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t forget Ethan’s letter.”
He showed me a photograph.
A man standing outside a small house.
Older.
Heavier.
But unmistakably Clara’s father.
“Where is he?”
Daniel gave me an address.
Clara stared at the photograph.
“That man is my father?”
“Yes.”
“Why did he leave?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
We found him two days later.
His name was David.
He opened the door and stared at us.
When he saw me, his expression changed.
