My Daughter Never Came Home from Prom – Eleven Months Later, What I Accidentally Found Hidden Inside My Son’s Beanbag Chair Made Me Go White as a Ghost

The last photo I have of Livia was taken at 5:12 p.m. on our front porch.

She stood in a pale blue dress, her hand linked through Liam’s arm, wearing that impatient teenage smile.

“Stay together tonight,” I told them.

Liam smiled. “We always do, Mom.”

Livia rolled her eyes. “Mom, we’re 18, not eight.”

“I know,” I said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “That’s why I’m nervous.”