Luna holds the line to the motel front desk in 1973, the night Emily was taken. On the other end, a woman hums the lullaby Luna's mother used to sing. Luna must decide whether to speak—to intervene in the moment that started everything—or to hang up and lose the thread forever. The static behind the call thickens into shapes, and Luna sees her own mother at the desk, younger, wearing the motel's key ring. The line crackles with a question Luna has never been asked: who are you? As the walls of the booth bleed, Luna realizes the motel has been listening to every call she has ever made.

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