I drove to her place like a man possessed. My daughter and her fiancé looked stunned when they saw me. “I never texted you,” she said, confused. But as I left their apartment, my phone buzzed again — and I froze. The message simply read: “I…” followed by those haunting, blinking typing dots… then nothing.
Standing by my car, I reread the message, breath shallow, hands trembling. “I…” What? Was someone playing games with me? The night was still, but it felt thick with tension. I glanced up at my daughter’s apartment window and saw her silhouette moving around with her fiancé, Byron. They looked fine. But if she hadn’t sent the text… who had?
