In 1990, their daughter went missing during her prom night, and after 22 years, her father discovered an ancient yearbook that left him in shock upon spotting something astonishing inside. …

«A book?» «John, it doesn’t matter anymore. Mary’s books are just gathering dust. No need to bother Liv about it.

She’s probably forgotten about it long ago. Do you know where Liv is now?» asked John, slightly changing the subject. «Yeah, I see her around town sometimes.

She lives in the dorms now,» Nancy replied, starting to unpack groceries. «I thought maybe visit her,» John said cautiously. «Not just for the book, of course.

We haven’t seen her in ages, and she was almost like family once.» Nancy paused and turned to face him. «John, I’m not ready for that today.

I have nothing against Liv, but I’m not ready to see her. Yesterday we agreed to pack things away and let go of hope. Going to Liv today feels like the opposite.»

She gestured at the mess in the living room. «I’ll stay here and clean up. Get things ready for the attic like we planned.

If you want to go, that’s your choice.» John nodded, understanding her reluctance. «It was a spur-of-the-moment idea.

I’ll go alone.» Nancy gave him directions to where Liv’s dorm usually was, but warned, don’t push her too hard, John. Mary’s disappearance must have hit her hard too.

They were like sisters. John gathered the yearbook, phone, wallet, and car keys. Heading to the door, he glanced back at Nancy, who had already started neatly stacking Mary’s books back into boxes.

He felt a pang of guilt for leaving her with the cleanup, but something drew him to Liv, to answers for questions he hadn’t even formed yet. The door closed behind him, and he stepped into the foggy morning of the town, clutching the yearbook tightly to his chest. John drove along the winding roads of Misty Ridge, following Nancy’s directions to the dorm where Olivia Kowalski now lived.

The drive took about 20 minutes, leading him from the town center to a modest neighborhood with several residential buildings. He parked the car and looked around, trying to figure out where Liv’s room might be. There were about a dozen buildings in varying conditions.

Some looked permanent, with small gardens. John approached a man washing his ground-floor room windows. «Excuse me, I’m looking for Olivia Kowalski.

Do you know where her room is?» The man pointed to a blue-and-white building at the far end of the lot. «Room number nine, you’ll find Liv there. Good woman…

Kind-hearted.» John thanked him and headed to the indicated building. The structure was modest but well-kept, with a small potted plant by the door.

He climbed to the second floor, spotted room number nine, took a deep breath, and knocked. A moment later, the door opened. A woman in her mid-forties stood before him.

Her blonde hair now streaked with gray, her face bearing faint wrinkles of middle age. She looked at John with polite confusion, no sign of recognition. «Can I help you?» she asked.

John suddenly realized they wouldn’t recognize each other. The last time they saw one another, Liv was a teenager, and he himself was 22 years younger. «Liv, it’s John Peterson, Mary’s father.»

Her eyes widened in surprise, then filled with a mix of emotions. Recognition, sadness, warmth. «John! Oh my God! Please, come in.»

She stepped back, opening the door wider. John entered the compact but cozy space. The room was tidy, decorated with personal touches: photos, small plants, bright pillows.

«Have a seat.» «Want some coffee?» Olivia gestured to a small dining area. Coffee would be nice.

«Thanks,» John said, settling on the bench. As Olivia prepared the coffee, John noticed her movements were cautious, as if giving herself time to process this unexpected visit. «What brings you here after all these years?» she asked, setting a steaming mug before him and sitting across.

John pulled out the yearbook he had brought. «I found this today while clearing Mary’s room.» Realized I’d never opened it before.

Olivia’s eyes lingered on the book. «I remember it,» she said softly, reaching out to touch the cover. John opened to Mary’s profile page and pointed to the note about returning the book.

«This book caught my interest,» he said. «Did you return it?» Olivia’s expression softened into a sad smile. «No, I didn’t.

I was such a forgetful kid back then, and Mary knew it. She always teased me about it. She stood and went to a cabinet under the bed.

After rummaging a bit, she pulled out a worn copy of «The Secret Garden,» an illustrated classic edition. I kept forgetting to return it, and after she disappeared, I couldn’t part with it. It’s the last thing I have from her.»

Olivia held the book gently, as if it were fragile glass. «You wouldn’t mind if I keep it. It’s become very precious to me over the years.»

John nodded, fully understanding. «Of course, you can keep it.» He took the book when Olivia handed it to him and carefully opened it.

The pages had yellowed with time, but the illustrations were still vibrant. Flipping through, he stopped at a page used as a bookmark. It looked like a torn page from a teen fashion magazine.

John unfolded the page, revealing a photoshoot with young models. His attention was drawn to a young guy in stylish clothes. Something about him seemed familiar.

«Who is this?» he asked, pointing to the model. Olivia leaned in to look. «That’s Samuel Levine, he was in our class.»

John returned to the yearbook and found Samuel’s photo next to Mary’s. Now he remembered. He was quite talented, modeling at that age.

«He still models sometimes, from what I’ve heard. Now he has his own clothing line,» Olivia said. John looked up.

«You know, Nancy once mentioned you dated Samuel back then. I didn’t think much of it.» Olivia’s expression changed instantly.

«That’s not true at all. I never dated Samuel. In fact, I never liked him…