He looked at our daughter, Lily, with an expression I couldn’t understand—equal parts wonder and fear. And then, night after night, he would vanish without explanation. I thought the worst. Was he escaping the pressures of fatherhood? Was there someone else? My heart ached with every creak of the door in the dark hours, every whispered excuse about late-night drives. Finally, one night, I followed him. His car led me away from home, away from all the answers I thought I had, and straight to a run-down building with glowing windows: the Hope Recovery Center.
