27 years ago an entire class vanished, until a desperate mother noticed a crucial detail…

Margaret’s hesitation, the stranger’s presence, and the slight contradictions gnawed at her. Yet she wondered if she was just overanalyzing. Sarah was right—she couldn’t afford to spiral into false hope again.

Heading back to the bus stop, Emily’s mind churned with mixed emotions. Rain began to fall, matching her heavy mood. Reaching the stop’s shelter, she stared at her phone, debating another call to the officer.

Before she could decide, the bus rolled up. She climbed aboard, settling by a window, clutching the photo tight.

Rain drummed steadily outside, though the wind had calmed. Emily sat, thoughts swirling with questions. Her talk with Margaret had left her more uncertain than resolved, a persistent feeling that something was amiss.

As the bus navigated wet streets, she sighed and checked her phone—no missed calls, no replies from the officer. Her stop neared, and she stepped off into a light drizzle. The florist’s shop glowed ahead, its vivid blooms cutting through the gloom. Pausing under a nearby awning, she hoped the rain would ease.

There, she wavered—should she call again? Would it matter? After Margaret’s words, she doubted she’d hear anything new. The officer would likely repeat old lines.

With a soft sigh, she pocketed her phone. Maybe Sarah was right—maybe she was just picking at scars. But the image of that young woman at Margaret’s, and the Principal’s jittery demeanor, wouldn’t fade.

Something felt wrong. Deciding she’d lingered enough, Emily took a breath and dashed for the florist, purse overhead as a flimsy shield. Cold rain soaked through her clothes, but she barely cared.

Just across the street—wetness wouldn’t ruin her. She pushed open the shop door, greeted by a bell’s chime.

The shift from chilly damp to warm, floral air was instant. The scent of roses wrapped around her, calming her nerves. “Mrs. Thompson,” the florist said, recognizing her.

“Wondered if you’d come today.” Emily managed a small smile. “Hi, Sophia. Yes, my usual order, please.” As Sophia gathered flowers for Lily’s grave, Emily eyed the selection—slimmer than past years, a faint letdown.

Catching her look, Sophia apologized. “Sorry, our stock’s thin this year. Weather’s been wild, messing with suppliers.”

Emily nodded. “It’s okay, Sophia. We’ll make something lovely for Lily anyway.”

As Sophia worked, the bell rang again. Emily turned to see Sarah and David enter. Their eyes met hers, surprise then worry crossing Sarah’s face.

“Emily,” Sarah said, nearing her. “Thought you’d have been here earlier. You okay?” Emily paused, unsure how much to reveal about her visit to Margaret’s.

“I—got delayed,” she said at last, “but it’s nice to see you both.” David shook her hand warmly. “Good to see you too, Emily.”

“How’re you managing?” Before she could reply, Sophia returned with flowers. “Here you go, Mrs. Thompson. Want to arrange them yourself, as usual?” Emily nodded, glad for the task.

“Yes, thanks, Sophia.” She began arranging, each stem placed with care, as Sarah and David picked a bouquet for Emma’s grave.

The shop hummed quietly—paper rustling, soft murmurs between the couple. Emily drifted into thought, hands moving instinctively, crafting beauty as her mind replayed her chat with Margaret.

Should she tell Sarah? Would she get it, or think Emily was chasing shadows again? Finishing with a ribbon, she looked up to find Sarah watching, affection and concern in her gaze. “That’s gorgeous, Emily,” Sarah said gently. “Lily would’ve adored it.”

Tears stung Emily’s eyes at her daughter’s name. “Thanks,” she choked out. “I hope so.”

They approached the counter to pay. As Sophia wrapped Sarah’s flowers, Emily studied her friend’s face—grief’s familiar weight there, but also a peace Emily envied.

“Sarah,” she said abruptly, voice low. “I need to tell you something about today.” Sarah turned, curiosity and worry mixing in her eyes.

“What’s up, Emily?” Emily braced herself. “After leaving your place, I—I went to see Principal Davis.” Sarah’s eyes widened.

“You did what? Why?” Before Emily could elaborate, Sophia handed over their bouquets. “Here you are, ladies. Hope these bring some comfort today.”

They thanked her and stepped outside, rain now ceased, air fresh. David suggested they visit the cemetery together, and Emily agreed. Walking to his car, she knew she’d have to explain to Sarah what she’d uncovered—or thought she had. Clutching her flowers, she wondered if she was ready to face the fallout of unearthing the past…