That night, I made a decision.

If Mary Lou wouldn’t come to me, I would go to her.

I didn’t tell her because I wanted to surprise her for Christmas. I imagined her opening the door, bursting into tears, and throwing her arms around me. I held onto that fantasy through the entire exhausting trip.

I had never flown before. The airport alone terrified me. Everything felt loud, rushed, and confusing. By the time I landed in Korea, my body ached from tension and lack of sleep.

Still, underneath all the anxiety, I felt excited.

I was finally going to see my daughter.

The taxi ride to her address took nearly an hour. The neighborhood was quiet and expensive-looking, full of modern homes hidden behind gates and trimmed hedges.

When the driver stopped, I stared at the house for a long moment.

It was beautiful.

Large windows. Clean white stone. Two stories tall.

But something about it immediately felt cold.

No lights glowed inside despite the evening darkness. No television flickered through the windows. No signs of life at all.

I rang the bell once.

Nothing.

I waited and rang again.

Still nothing.

My stomach tightened. Maybe they were out shopping. Maybe they were visiting friends. But when I gently pushed the gate, it swung open without resistance.

I slowly walked up the path toward the front door.

The garden was perfectly maintained, but strangely lifeless. No toys. No decorations. Not even dead leaves out of place.

Then I reached the front door and tested the handle.

Unlocked.

The second I stepped inside, a chill crawled up my spine.

The house looked perfect in the most unnatural way possible. The furniture seemed untouched, like nobody actually sat on it. The air smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals instead of food or laundry.

No family photographs anywhere.

No shoes by the entrance.

No jackets hanging nearby.

Nothing personal at all.

“Mary?” I called softly.

Only silence answered me.

I moved deeper into the house, my footsteps echoing slightly against the polished floors. The kitchen looked almost unused. Inside the refrigerator were a few bottles of water, yogurt cups, and old fruit beginning to wrinkle.

No leftovers.

No signs of regular meals.

No evidence that two adults actually lived there.

A horrible feeling began growing inside my chest.