When my daughter Jane dropped off my grandson Tommy and left with a vague excuse about a work trip, I was concerned.

Jane, usually so open, seemed distant and anxious,

and her request to leave Tommy for two weeks felt strange.

What worried me more was when I discovered she had packed clothes for multiple seasons and left behind cash in a white envelope,

hinting that she wasn’t planning to return soon.

When I couldn’t reach her, I grew frantic. I called everyone, but no one had heard from her.

Days later, she video-called me,

looking exhausted and telling me she was on a secret mission, but her words didn’t comfort me.

I knew she was hiding something,

I soon realized that Tommy’s father, a dangerous man from her past, might be back in town.

Fearing for their safety,

I packed up Tommy’s things and hid any trace of him, not knowing when or if Jane would return.

Weeks went by without word, and I was left to reassure Tommy,

lying about when his mom would be back.

Finally, Jane returned, looking drained but relieved.

She refused to tell me anything about her mysterious assignment but promised to stay safe.

As she left with Tommy, I watched them drive away,

filled with a mix of relief and fear

. Despite her promise, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the secrets Jane kept would haunt us forever.