Two years.
That’s how long it had been since I lost my daughter, Grace, and her husband, Anthony. A car accident had taken them away, leaving me with their two little boys, Ethan and Sam. They were my world now, and I did everything I could to keep their parents’ memory alive.
But nothing—**nothing**—could have prepared me for what happened that day at the beach.
Ethan and Sam were building sandcastles when suddenly, their little voices rang out.
**“GRANDMA, LOOK! THAT’S MOM AND DAD!”**
I froze.
Their fingers pointed toward a café by the shore. A young couple sat there, laughing softly over cups of coffee.
I turned my head—and my heart nearly **stopped.**
The woman had Grace’s face. The same dark curls, the same delicate features. Her mannerisms, the way she tilted her head when she listened—it was all her.
The man beside her wasn’t Anthony… but he looked eerily similar. The same jawline, the same way he reached for her hand as they talked.
My blood ran cold.
It wasn’t possible.
Grace and Anthony were **dead.** I had buried them. Mourned them.
But there they were.
### **Following the Ghosts**
I grabbed my grandsons’ hands and took them to my friend Ella, who was sunbathing nearby. “Stay here, okay?” I told them. “I’ll be back soon.”
Ella nodded, sensing the urgency in my voice, and I walked away—**back toward the impossible.**
I didn’t approach the couple. Not yet. I watched.
After a few minutes, they stood up and walked along the shoreline, then disappeared down a side street. My feet moved before I could think.
I followed.
They walked with ease, laughing, completely unaware of me behind them. They weren’t ghosts. They weren’t figments of my imagination.
They were **alive.**
Or at least… **someone was.**
The couple stopped in front of a **small cottage covered in grapevines.** It looked secluded, quiet, like a place to disappear.
And then—without hesitation—they went inside.
I clenched my fists.
Something was **very, very wrong.**
Without a second thought, I pulled out my phone and dialed the police.
Then, I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell.
—
### **The Truth That Shattered Me**
The moment the door cracked open, my heart pounded.
Grace—**or the woman who looked like her**—stared at me.
And her expression?
Pure terror.
“…Mom?” she whispered.
My throat closed up. It was her voice. **It was really her.**
But before I could speak, the man appeared behind her. He grabbed her wrist.
“Go inside,” he ordered.
That’s when I knew—**she wasn’t here willingly.**
The police arrived minutes later. The man tried to shut the door, but the officers pushed past him.
And that’s when the nightmare unraveled.
The man wasn’t Anthony.
His name was **Derek.**
And Grace? She hadn’t died that night.
She and Anthony had been in a terrible car accident, yes—but Anthony had died **on impact.** Grace had survived, unconscious for weeks in the hospital.
And while I grieved, while I arranged funerals, while I thought she was gone—
**Derek had taken her.**
He had posed as a concerned friend, picked her up once she was stable, and **disappeared with her.** He had **erased her past, her identity, and controlled every aspect of her life.**
For two years, she had been trapped.
But now…
She was **free.**
—
### **Home Again**
Grace cried when she held her sons again. Ethan and Sam clung to her, asking why she had been gone so long.
She didn’t have an answer for them. Not yet.
But she was back.
And I would never let her go again.
