The call came at 3:47 p.m.
Daniel had just finished editing a chapter when the phone rang. The sound startled him—he hadn't realized how quiet the house had become. He glanced at the screen: Unknown Number. A strange chill ran down his spine as he answered.
"Mr. Carter?" a woman's voice asked, steady but tense.
"Yes, speaking."
"This is Officer Claire Mendoza from the Ontario Provincial Police. I'm afraid there's been an accident."
Time slowed.
Eliza's face appeared in his mind—her smile from the morning, her eyes full of something unspoken. Then Noah's excited chatter, his little hand waving from the backseat.
Daniel's throat tightened. "What kind of accident?"
"A vehicle matching your wife's car was involved in a crash near Pine Lake Bridge. It veered off the road into the water."
His legs gave out. He sank to the floor, phone pressed tightly to his ear.
"Were they…?"
"The dive team is working. No bodies have been recovered yet. I'm so sorry."
The next few days blurred into a fog of endless waiting, unanswered questions, and search crews. The lake was deep and dark. Divers found fragments—part of the bumper, a child's shoe that might have been Noah's. But no bodies.
No closure.
Daniel refused to believe it. He stayed near the crash site every day for a week. He watched the water, waiting for a sign. A ripple. A shimmer. Something.
Friends came. Neighbors brought food. His editor offered condolences. Everyone said the same thing: You have to accept it. You have to move on.
But how could he?
There was no final goodbye. No confirmation. Just silence.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
He left their things untouched. Noah's drawings still hung on the fridge. Eliza's half-finished painting sat in the corner of the living room, the brush dried mid-stroke.
Every day at 5:00 p.m., Daniel sat by the door. It was the time they were supposed to come home.
And every evening, he whispered, "I'm still here."
He stopped answering calls. He missed appointments. The world continued around him, but Daniel stayed frozen, stuck in the moment that split his life in two.
Once, his sister visited. She sat on the porch with him.
"Danny… you need to come back to life," she pleaded. "You're not the only one who lost someone."
He stared straight ahead.
"They're not gone," he said flatly. "Not until I see them. Not until I know."
She shook her head, tears brimming. "You're waiting for ghosts."
But Daniel didn't believe in ghosts. He believed in Eliza. In Noah. In promises made with real words.
"I'll be here," he repeated.