The last time I saw my husband was sixteen years ago. Carol was only two years old. It started out like any normal evening. I put Carol to bed and then started dinner. Altan, my husband, was still at work. But I knew he would be home soon. Even though he was a scientist and worked outrageous hours, he always tried to be home in time for dinner. Take a day off, I always tell him. But he never does. He's very dedicated to his work. Maybe it was because of the incident, or something else, but Altan buried himself in his work more than ever. You see, Carol would have had a brother, a twin. But the other baby came out a still born. I don't remember much, just Altan's friend, Dr. Jacobs, taking him away.
I knew something had to be wrong when Altan didn't arrive home by seven. He was always home by seven. Even though his work demanded his constant attention, he always came home at seven, like clockwork. But this one night...he did not. At first I thought that it was just a mistake, maybe he got caught up doing something. But hours passed and his dinner got cold. I tried calling his phone, but it went straight to voicemail without ringing. Next I tried Keith Jacobs, his coworker, the one who oversaw the birth of Carol. His cell also went straight to voicemail. While Altan's work was very demanding, this was quite unusual.
I recalled something he said that morning before going to work, something about, "Megara, I've figured it out. I know what to do now, I know what it needs. Keith and I...we've done it!"
"What have you figured out?"
"Time travel!" he exclaimed. Before I could question him further, he bustled out the door in a rush, and that was the last I saw of him.
When I hadn't seen or heard from him in over twenty-four hours, I filed a missing persons report with the police. I even put one in for Keith. But my efforts were in vain. I never saw either of them again.