A Desperate Search
I wasn’t a detective, but I knew one thing—no one disappears without a trace.
I combed through old newspapers, online records, and community boards. Nothing. No reports, no news, no obituaries.
Then it hit me—hospitals.
If something had happened that night, she might have been taken in for care.
Calling in a favor from my friend Sarah, a nurse, I asked for help.
“You owe me coffee for a year,” she muttered as we searched records.
Minutes passed. My hope wavered. And then—
“Here.”
I froze.
Susan had been admitted that night. No ID. Memory loss.
No one had come to claim her. No missing person report had been filed.
But there was a contact number. My hands trembled as I dialed.
A voice answered. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry for calling so late. My name is Emma. I’m looking for Susan Wilson. I think… I think she might be your mother.”
Silence.
Then, a deep, shaky breath.
“She lost so much that night—her past, her name. But she never let go of one thing. A place. A name.”
I closed my eyes. “Tom.”
“Yes.”
The Reunion
Tom arrived at the café on Monday, dressed in his best suit. His hands trembled as he smoothed the tablecloth.
“She’s here,” I whispered, nodding toward the window.
A woman sat outside in a wheelchair, hands folded in her lap. Her hair was grayer than in the photo, her frame thinner.
Tom swallowed hard and stepped forward.
“Susan?”
Her eyes flickered to him, searching. A pause…
Then, a breathless whisper. “Tom?”
Tears welled in his eyes as he knelt beside her, his hands finding hers.
“It’s me. I’ve been waiting.”
Her lip trembled. “I thought I lost you.”
Tom cupped her cheek, his voice breaking. “You could never lose me.”
From his coat pocket, he pulled out the same velvet box he had carried for a year. He opened it, revealing the ring that had waited just as long as he had.
“Susan… will you marry me?”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Yes, Tom. A thousand times, yes.”
He exhaled shakily, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
Behind them, her daughter covered her mouth, overwhelmed. She had never seen her mother look so full of life.
And for the first time in a year, Tom’s table was no longer set for two.
It was filled with love, laughter, and the promise that some stories are meant to find their way back to where they belong.