Weeks passed. No body was found. No ransom demands. Just silence.
I was suffocating under the weight of uncertainty. Every night, I scoured every piece of evidence, searching for any trace of her. Every morning, I went to work, pretending I was fine.
Until the email arrived.
No sender. No subject. Just a single sentence.
"Your sister is in the forest."
I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I packed my bag, took a leave from work, and drove.
The forest was dense, the towering trees swallowing all light once the sun dipped below the horizon. I set up a small tent and stayed, refusing to leave until I found her. Days passed in restless anticipation.
Then, one night—movement.
A rustling sound. Slow footsteps.
I bolted upright, grabbing the flashlight. My heart pounded against my ribs as I stepped outside. The beam of light flickered through the trees—until it landed on a figure.
Mae.
She was there. She was alive.
Tears blurred my vision as I rushed toward her. She was tied up, her face streaked with dirt and dried tears. Her clothes were torn, her frame trembling.
“Mae!” I choked, reaching for her restraints. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”