Four years ago, Mom and Dad went to Pinehill together.
Not long after, Mom gave up on the expedition and came back, but Dad refused to quit and disappeared for four years without a word.
Recently, the police informed us that Dad, who had been missing for four years, was confirmed dead in Pinehill. All that remained was a backpack and a diary.
The backpack was stained with blood and hair. DNA testing confirmed it belonged to my dad.
Mom and I had no choice but to bury an empty grave for him, with only his backpack and diary.
On the third night after the burial, the father who had been confirmed dead came home.
He smiled eerily, his body covered in dirt, completely devoid of any human warmth as if he had just crawled out from the grave.
“Evelyn, did you miss Daddy?”
——
I froze and shivered.
A word barely escaped my throat. “Y… yes.”
Dad smiled with delight. His rough hand pinched my cheek, sending a chill straight to my heart.
It wasn’t the temperature of a living person at all.
It terrified me.
But Dad was clearly already dead. In the backyard, the empty grave still held the backpack and diary he left behind in Pinehill.
So who exactly was this “Dad” standing before me?
Panicked, I called out for Mom. She was upstairs in the bathroom taking a shower.
Hearing my cries, she asked what was going on.
I hesitated for a moment, but then told her everything truthfully.
“Mom, Dad is back!”
“What?”
She let out a startled cry and a minute later, she came running out, still dripping wet and half-dressed.
She thought I was talking nonsense and was ready to scold me, until she saw Dad standing in the living room.
Dad smiled wearily and pulled a few stones out of his pocket. “Margaret, I’m back. You’ve worked so hard all these years, keeping the house together and taking care of our daughter. These are stones I brought back for you from Pinehill as a keepsake.”
He shoved the stones into Mom’s hands, but she flinched in fear.
With a dull thud, the stones fell to the floor.
Mom stared blankly at the stones, her expression suddenly filled with panic.
Her lips pressed tightly together and I couldn’t tell whether she was afraid of Dad—or of the stones.
But Dad kept smiling as if his face could only hold one expression— that eerie smile.
Yet somehow, that clumsy, tone-deaf attempt at romance… was just like the old him.
He hadn’t changed at all.
My dad was always a thrill-seeker.
Before he married Mom, they were both part of an amateur expedition team. After marrying her, he quit the original team, but was still rarely home. Instead, he formed a new group with other outdoor enthusiasts.
After I was born, he stayed home a bit more, but his free-spirited nature couldn’t be restrained. He still went on expeditions just as often.
In my memory, the only one ever truly tied down was Mom.
When I cried as a child, she would cry with me, often breaking down, then healing on her own, again and again.
She endured it all until I finally grew up and only then did she return to work as a nurse.
But Dad never considered Mom’s feelings. In fact, he found her boring.
Every time he conquered a new place, he would bring back a stone as a souvenir for her.
Mom’s vanity table wasn’t filled with jewelry or makeup. It was completely taken over by stones from all over the country.
And now, there was one more.
Even I felt it was too much, let alone Mom. I wanted to throw it far, far away.
But Dad just kept smiling eerily and asked, “What’s wrong, Margaret? Don’t you like it?”
“I like it,” Mom replied coldly, then told him to go upstairs, take a shower, change his clothes and get a good night’s sleep.
