2 min read

·

Jun 9, 2025

--

👠It was 11:42 p.m.

I was about to turn off the lights when I heard the knock.

Three soft taps… as if the person behind the door wasn’t sure if they wanted to be heard.

I froze immediately. Who knocks that late?

I tiptoed to the door, peeked through the curtain — and my heart stopped.

There they were.

A pair of red heels. The exact pair my sister wore the night she disappeared.

The exact heels we never found.

I flung the door open. No one.

Just the shoes… neatly placed on the mat like someone had changed into slippers and walked away.

I didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, I called my mum. Her voice trembled.

“Someone came to the house last week too,” she whispered.

“Left her bracelet on the kitchen counter. The one she wore every day.”

It’s been 3 years since Ada went missing.

No trace, no body, no goodbye.

Just silence… and now, her things showing up like breadcrumbs.

We never got closure.

But last night, I got something else. A folded note, tucked inside the right heel.

It said:

“I’m not dead. But I’m not the same girl either. Don’t look for me.”

Now I don’t know what hurts more…

That she’s alive, or that she doesn’t want to come home.