Three days later, they returned.

Daniel and his mother stepped out of a taxi with sunglasses on, laughing softly, skin tanned from the sun like nothing had happened.

Daniel carried flowers.

“Let’s go home,” he said. “You probably overreacted about everything—”

He stopped.

The house door was locked.

Not just locked—changed.

New security system. New code. New name on the property records.

His mother frowned. “Daniel… why is the door like this?”

He knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Then a calm voice came from inside through the intercom.

Mine.

“I gave birth yesterday,” I said quietly.

Silence.

Daniel’s smile faded. “Open the door. This isn’t funny.”

I stepped into view behind the glass.

Holding my newborn in my arms.

“And while you were gone,” I continued, “I realized something important.”

A pause.

“You didn’t leave me.”

I leaned closer to the camera.

“I removed you.”

The flowers slipped from his hands.

And for the first time… he looked afraid