Chapter 1

I drove to Emily's preschool, like I did every weekday.

The little blue building looked normal.

The kids were playing outside.

I looked for Emily's bright red coat.

She always wore the red coat.

A little boy ran to me.

He had dark hair, not like Emily's blonde curls.

"Mommy!" he shouted. He hugged my legs.

I froze.

"Who are you?" I asked.

The boy looked up, his eyes wide. "It's me, Mommy. Ethan."

A teacher, Ms. Gable, walked over. She smiled.

"Sarah, Ethan was so excited to see you."

"Where's Emily?" I asked. My voice was tight.

Ms. Gable's smile faded a little. "Emily? Honey, Ethan is your son."

Other parents were looking. Whispering.

"No," I said. "My daughter. Emily. She's five. This is her class."

Ms. Gable put a hand on my arm. "Sarah, dear. You only have Ethan. There's no Emily in our records."

Panic started to crawl up my throat.

"That's not true. Emily. She was here this morning."

The little boy, Ethan, started to cry. "Mommy, don't you know me?"

Mark was waiting at home. He looked tired.

"What happened at the school?" he asked.

"Mark, they don't know Emily. They said we only have... him." I pointed to the boy, who was clinging to Mark's leg.

Mark sighed. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Sarah, we've been over this. Emily... Emily isn't real, honey. Ethan is our son. Our only child."

His voice was gentle, but it felt like a punch.

"No! I remember her! I gave birth to her. The difficult pregnancy, remember?"

Mark looked away. "We have Ethan. He's five."

He picked up the boy. "Come on, Ethan. Let's get you a snack."

Ethan looked at me over Mark's shoulder, his face tear-streaked. He looked confused, sad.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to find Emily.

Mark walked into the kitchen. I heard him opening the fridge.

He called out, "Sarah, your mom called. She and Dad are worried about you again."

I sank onto the sofa.

Mark came back, holding a photo album. He sat next to me.

"Look, Sarah. Here we are. You, me, and Ethan as a baby."

He turned the page. Ethan at his first birthday. Ethan learning to walk.

No Emily.

"These aren't right," I whispered. "Where are Emily's pictures?"

"There are no pictures of Emily, Sarah. Because there is no Emily."

He took out his phone. Home videos. Ethan blowing out candles. Ethan opening Christmas presents.

My own parents, Joan and Bill, were in some of them, smiling, holding Ethan.

"I'll call Mom," Mark said, his voice strained. "Maybe she can talk to you."

He dialed. I heard my mother's voice, faint and concerned, through the phone.

"Joan? Yeah, it's Mark. Sarah's... she's having a bad day. Thinking about Emily again."

A pause.

"Okay, I'll tell her. We love you too."

He hung up. "Mom and Dad send their love. They said to remember what Dr. Evans told you. They're worried about you, Sarah. And about Ethan."

Ethan. The boy who called me Mommy.

My head was spinning. This couldn't be real.