“Dad? Dad, where are you? Please, I need help…”
I swallowed hard.
“I’m not your father,” I said gently. “Who are you trying to reach?”
Through sobs, she explained that her car had broken down in the middle of nowhere. She had been desperately trying to reach her dad—but he had recently changed his number.
When she tried calling the old one, the contact saved as “Dad”… was me. Because that number had once belonged to Helen. I comforted her, stayed on the line until help reached her.
Then I sat in my car and cried until sunrise. For a few heart-stopping seconds that night, it felt like Helen had found a way back to me—if only long enough to remind me that love never really disappears. Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events.
Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance.
All images are for illustration purposes only.
