After they finished the cake, Mom and Dad put Noah to bed.

He lay under his blanket hugging the new remote-control car. "When is Lily coming home?"

"Soon," Mom said, tucking him in. "Close your eyes. You'll see her in the morning."

"I'll let her play with my new car," Noah whispered.

"Good," Mom said. "She'll like that."

The light went off, and Mom closed his door softly.

In the living room, the clock pointed to 10:30.

Dad sat on the couch staring at his phone. The screen was lit, but he was not really looking at anything. He opened WhatsApp, closed it, opened it again, closed it again.

Mom paced through the living room and walked to the window for the third time.

"Mark," she finally said, unable to hold it in. "Let's go look for her."

"Look for what?" Dad did not lift his head, but his voice no longer sounded certain. "Let her come back herself."

"But it's so cold outside, and she's so young." Mom's voice broke.

Dad did not answer. His fingers tightened around the phone.

The wall clock ticked on.

Eleven o'clock.

Dad suddenly stood and grabbed his coat. "Let's go."

They rushed out.

I followed as they searched the apartment complex, the playground, every path and corner, calling my name again and again.

"Lily! Lily Bennett!"

Mom's voice scattered into the night wind, thinner and more frightened each time she shouted.

Her throat grew hoarse, but she kept calling.

At first, Dad kept a hard expression. Then he began to panic too.

He ran to the security office and checked the cameras. On the screen, a small figure pulling a blue suitcase walked out of the complex gate at 9:08 p.m.

"She even took a suitcase?" Dad's face went white.

Mom covered her mouth. Tears finally spilled over.

They drove out to search, following the road west, one street after another.

Mom leaned against the window, staring out, murmuring, "Lily... Lily, where are you?"

Dad said nothing, but the car moved faster and faster.

They searched for a very long time. Long enough for stores along the roadside to turn off their lights one by one. Long enough for the sidewalks to empty.

The air in the car grew heavier, so heavy it seemed hard to breathe.

After circling another empty street, Dad pulled over and sat in silence with both hands on the steering wheel.

"Call the police," Mom said at last. The words barely came out.

Dad nodded and picked up his phone.

Before he could dial, the screen lit up.

The ringtone exploded through the quiet car, sharp enough to make the heart jump.

Dad glanced at the unknown number and answered impatiently. "Hello?"

I drifted closer and heard a calm male voice from the other end.

"Are you Lily Bennett's parents? This is Mercy General Hospital."