The Day My Five‑Year‑Old Disappeared

"Mommy, you have to be the first person to come pick me up, okay?"

These are my daughter Dorothy Grant's final words to me when she walked me out of the house this morning.

But when I stand at the kindergarten's entrance with a box of Dorothy's favorite strawberry shortcake in my hands, the security guard just stares at me as though I lost my mind.

"Ma'am, this place might be where Sunflower Kindergarten is located, but it has already closed its doors for three years. This place is now a retirement home."

I rush into the "kindergarten" instantly. The spot where the slide used to be is now replaced by a row of flowerbeds. The room that used to be the classroom now hosts a bunch of elderly people, who bask in the sunlight.

With trembling hands, I call my husband, Chester Grant, on the phone. He sounds very exasperated and exhausted over the phone.

"Honey, we've been married for five years, and we choose to be childless. You've never given birth before."

My alarm went off at 2:30 pm sharp, and I shot up from my work desk.

"Ms. Chapman, going to pick up your kid already? It's not even time to clock out yet," Zoey Irvin, the new intern, joked.

As I packed my bag, I replied, "I have to make an exception today. It's Dottie's first time spending her birthday at the kindergarten, and I've promised her I'd be the first to arrive and pick her up with a strawberry shortcake."

I grabbed the cake that I had just bought and felt a wave of regret.

For the past few years, my husband, Chester Grant, and I had been working day and night just to pay off the mortgage. We barely spent any time with our daughter, Dorothy Grant. Thus, I took half a day off today to surprise her.

Sunflower Kindergarten wasn't far from my office, just two turns down the street. I hummed Dorothy's favorite nursery rhyme as I glided to her. However, when I turned the final corner, I froze.

The kindergarten that should've had a rainbow-painted gate was gone. In its place stood a dull black iron door with a sign above it that read "Golden Years Wellness Center".

I rubbed my eyes, assuming I had taken the wrong road. I looked around again, only to see the familiar buildings around—the pasta house across the street and Founders Bank next to it.

Even the air carried that familiar smell of cooking oil from this neighborhood. Everything was the same, except that the kindergarten, once filled with laughter and noise, had vanished without a trace.

My heart dropped. I darted toward the security booth and yelled, "Excuse me, sir! Where's Sunflower Kindergarten? I thought they were still having classes today!"

A security guard in a gray uniform stepped out of the booth and frowned at me. "Kindergarten? Ma'am, this is a senior wellness center. It's been open for three years."

"That's impossible!" I shrieked, gripping the cake so tightly my fingers hurt. "Just at 8:00 am this morning, I walked my daughter through that gate! A teacher in a yellow apron even stood there and greeted us!"

The guard sized me up from head to toe, a look creeping into his eyes as if he were staring at someone unstable. He picked up his walkie-talkie and muttered, "A woman's causing trouble at the entrance. She might not be mentally sound. Send someone over."

A chill crawled up my spine and straight to my scalp. I fished out my phone, my fingers shaking as I dialed Chester. The call connected after just two rings.

"Hello, honey? What's up?" he answered, his voice as gentle as ever, though laced with a hint of lethargy.

"Chester, you need to come over now! The kindergarten is gone! Dottie… Dottie's not here!" I shouted through my sobs, collecting stares from the passersby around me.

Silence dawned on the other end for five whole seconds. I didn't learn how suffocating quietness could be until then.

"Sophie…" Chester grumbled, his voice now cold and bereft of the earlier tenderness. "What are you talking about? What kindergarten? Who's Dottie?"

My hair stood, my tears threatening to run down my face. "What are you saying? Dottie, our daughter—Dorothy Grant!"

A helpless sigh escaped him. "Honey, we've been married for five years. Both of us work and decide not to have children. You've never even given birth."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I had never given birth? Who was that girl this morning who clung to my neck and smelled like milk and honey? What about the scar on my belly, the one I got from giving birth to her?

I frenziedly yanked up my shirt and checked my abdomen. It was smooth and flat, devoid of the pink, ugly scar from my C-section. It disappeared.