I had always dreamed of being a detective, but my family thought I was making a huge mistake. When I left my journalism career behind, they were disappointed—some even called it a disgrace. My family didn’t understand, and I started to wonder if they were right. There were no clients, no money, just empty days filled with regret. But then, everything changed the moment a teenage girl walked into my office, looking for her mother.
I was sitting at my desk, my small office dimly lit by a flickering lamp. The only noise was the sound of paper shuffling as I sorted through the mail—more bills, a few advertisements, and then more bills.
I sighed and set the letters aside, covering my face with my hands. My life felt stuck.
I used to be a journalist. I had a reputation for uncovering stories, finding truths, and speaking for those who couldn’t. But after years of feeling like nothing was ever truly finished, I left that behind to become a private detective. I thought it would give me the sense of purpose I was craving.
But my family didn’t see it that way. They tried to convince me to stay, to keep my “prestigious” job. When they realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, they turned their backs on me. My husband left me for a younger woman, one with fewer wrinkles and shinier hair. As for my daughter? She disowned me. She couldn’t accept that I had given up a well-respected career for something she saw as a disgrace.
It hurt. A lot. But slowly, the longer I worked as a private detective, the more I began to wonder if they were right. I hadn’t had a case in months, and my debts were piling up. People didn’t think a woman could be a good detective. Men were assumed to be the stronger, sharper, more capable detectives. They had the edge, the reputation. I felt invisible.
But then, one day, as I sat in my office feeling more hopeless than usual, I heard a hesitant knock on the door. I straightened up quickly, smoothing my hair and shoving the bills into a drawer.
“Come in!” I called out.
The door creaked open slowly, and in walked a girl—probably around fifteen, her clothes too small for her. Her sweater’s sleeves were cut off jaggedly, and her long hair fell in messy strands across her face.
She stood by the door for a moment, shifting nervously on her feet.
“How can I help you?” I asked, motioning to the chair in front of my desk.
She hesitated but sat down carefully, pulling her sleeves over her hands, brushing her unkempt hair away from her face, as if she was used to it falling in front of her eyes. One thing was obvious—this girl didn’t have a mother to care for her.
“My name’s Emily,” she said quietly. “I’m an orphan. I need your help to find my mother.”
I studied her face. She looked nervous, her eyes were full of fear—but there was something else in her gaze. Determination.
“She gave you up?” I asked gently.
Emily nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes. I don’t know anything about her. Not even her name, or what she looks like. Nothing.”
She paused, her voice trembling as she continued, “I’m fifteen now. No one will adopt me anymore. But I need to find her. I just… I need to understand why she left me.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach. No child should ever feel abandoned, no child should ever have to wonder why they weren’t enough for their mother.
“I’ll need something to start with,” I said, reaching for my notebook.
Emily sat up straighter. “I was born here. I’ve never moved. I’ve lived in this town my whole life.” She paused, taking a breath. “My birthday is February 15, 2009.”
I quickly jotted it down.
“Is that enough?” she asked, her fingers gripping the edge of her sweater tightly.
“I’ll do everything I can,” I promised her.
She hesitated for a moment, then pulled out a few crumpled bills from her pocket. “I don’t have much, but… this is for you.”
It wasn’t even close to what I needed to do this job, but I wasn’t interested in the money.
“If I find her, then you can pay me,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile.
Emily’s lips trembled, and her eyes watered as she stood up to leave. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Wait,” I called. “How can I reach you if I need to?”
She scribbled an address on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “I’ll be at my foster home.”
I nodded, and she walked out.
The next morning, I wasted no time. Even though I knew I wasn’t going to make any money from this case, I couldn’t ignore the spark of purpose it gave me. It felt good to finally have a reason to get up in the morning.
My first stop was the hospital. Our town only had one, and if Emily’s mother had given birth there, I knew the records would be easy to track down.
One advantage of my old job was the connections I had built. Camilla, a nurse at the hospital, had been a source of mine when I covered a story years ago. She had become a friend, and I knew exactly who to go to for help.
As soon as Camilla spotted me, she put down her clipboard and grinned. “Sara!” she said, pulling me into a quick hug. “What brings you here? Please don’t say trouble.”
“I need your help,” I said, lowering my voice slightly.
Camilla raised an eyebrow. “Of course you do. You never just stop by for a friendly visit, do you?”
I crossed my arms, feigning annoyance. “You literally had dinner at my house last week.”
She smirked. “Fine. What do you need?”
“Birth records. February 15, 2009,” I said.
Camilla blinked. “That’s pretty specific. Should I be worried?”
“Nothing illegal. I just need to find a name.”
Camilla folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “That’s doable, but you better make it quick.”
I hesitated for a moment. “The baby was probably given up, maybe even in secret.”
Her expression softened. “Sara, you know I can’t just hand you confidential records.”
“Please, Camilla. Just a quick look. No one will even notice.”
She sighed, her eyes scanning the hallway. “I’ll make it quick. Ten minutes. Then you’re out.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I owe you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You owe me for life.”
She led me through a narrow hallway to the hospital archives, where the air smelled of dust and old paper. She handed me a thick folder labeled “2009 – Abandoned Newborns.”
“Be quick,” she whispered.
My fingers trembled as I flipped through the pages. February 15. There it was. The mother’s name. I froze. My heart pounded in my chest.
No. It couldn’t be.
I shoved the file back into the drawer and rushed out of the room, barely able to breathe.
Camilla stood by the door, looking at me with concern. “Sara, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What happened?”
“I’ll explain later,” I muttered, pushing past her. I needed to get out of there and take a breath.
I found myself standing in front of a house I didn’t recognize. The air felt thick, heavy.
This case had become too personal, too close to my heart. I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
I stood there, staring at the door, my hand hovering over the doorbell. I could turn around and pretend I never came. But I couldn’t. Not when it came to Emily.
I pressed the button, and the chime echoed inside the house. Footsteps approached. The door opened, and I saw her.
Meredith.
Her face turned white as she looked at me. Her lips parted in shock. “Mom?” she whispered, barely able to breathe.
I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Hi.”
She stared at me, her grip tightening on the doorframe. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear—I don’t want to see you.”
“I wouldn’t have come if this were about me,” I said, my voice steady.
She narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you here?”
I took a deep breath, then said, “For your daughter.”
Meredith’s face drained of color. Her body tensed, her breath caught in her throat. “How… how did you—?” she whispered, not finishing her sentence.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and without saying a word, she stepped aside and let me in.
The kitchen was small, neat, but she moved stiffly, as if her body didn’t quite know what to do. She pulled out a chair and sat down, her hands clenched tightly together.
I stayed standing for a moment, then sat across from her, the silence between us thick.
“She’s been living with foster families,” I said softly. “Her name is Emily. She came to me to find you.”
Meredith squeezed her hands together tightly. “Please stop,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
I waited for her to speak again.
“I’ve regretted it every day of my life,” she said finally, her voice shaking. “I thought it was the best thing for her. That she’d have a better life without me. But now… now you show up, reminding me of everything I did wrong.”
“You’re not a terrible person,” I said, trying to reassure her. “You were a child yourself when she was born. I just… I don’t understand how you kept it a secret. How did your father and I not know?”
“I wore loose clothes. My belly wasn’t that big. I planned to give birth somewhere else, but then you and Dad went abroad for work. It all worked out,” she explained softly.
“Tell her I couldn’t be found,” Meredith said suddenly, her voice trembling.
“Why?” I asked gently.
“I… I don’t think I can face her. She’ll hate me.”
I took a deep breath. “Maybe. But even if she’s angry, she still wanted to find you. That means something.”
Meredith wiped at her eyes. “What if she doesn’t want me?”
“She wants answers,” I said softly. “She needs to know where she came from. You owe her that.”
She turned away, but I could see her conflicted feelings.
“I have her address,” I said, pulling the piece of paper out of my pocket. “Do you want to see her?”
Meredith hesitated, then nodded slowly.
We drove in silence, the streets flashing by. When we reached the house, Meredith didn’t move. Her fingers dug into her lap as if holding onto something for dear life.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked, her voice fragile.
I shook my head. “This is between you two.”
Meredith’s voice broke. “Mom… I regret pushing you away. I was ashamed.”
I turned to her. “You’re my daughter. No matter what, I’ll always love you.”
Her face crumpled, and she reached for me. I held her tight, like I had when she was a child.
“What you’re doing is important,” she whispered. “People like Emily need you.”
I smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
Then she stepped out of the car, walked to the door, and knocked.
When Emily opened the door, they stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Meredith took a breath, and Emily stepped forward.
They talked. They cried. And finally, Emily wrapped her arms around her mother.
