The morning began like any other, the soft chill of late winter brushing against my cheeks as I stepped onto the porch. My eyes drifted over the yard, where the frost clung to the grass like a thin, stubborn veil.
Jessica was playing near the backyard, her laughter faint but sweet, mingling with the distant sounds of morning routines.
It felt like any ordinary day, the world so familiar and unchanged.
Then came the silence, abrupt and unsettling.
I scanned the yard again, expecting to see her small frame darting between the trees. But she was gone.
Panic caught in my throat as I called out her name, my voice cracking slightly. No response.
My feet moved on instinct, pulling me towards where she’d last been playing.
“Jessica!” I shouted again, the urgency rising.
A neighbor, Mrs. Collins, heard my calls and came over, concern etched on her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing around.
