I used to think I had a good life — a stable job, a dream home, and a husband I could trust.

Travis wasn’t perfect, but he was steady. At least, that’s what I thought. I believed I’d married a good man, someone I could rest on to keep our family safe while I was away working in Germany.

That illusion fractured the day I came home early — bags still in hand, exhaustion clinging to my bones after the long flight. The house was loud, chaotic, and full of people I didn’t understand. But worse than the chaos, worse than the music pounding through the walls, was the silence from my son’s room.

Caleb, my 17-year-old, was nowhere to be found.

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