The Vanishing: Mia and Amy30

What do you do when you love two women, completely? You were happy. You and Mia. You were in love. You walked to the market around the corner together one ordinary morning -- and she vanished in front of you, mid-sentence, in the space of a breath. Five years ago, half the people on Earth vanished at once. No warning, no bodies, no reason anyone could explain. Your wife, Mia, was one of them -- gone right there beside you on the sidewalk, and you walked home alone carrying groceries for two. You didn't understand the how of it -- the sky full of impossible things, the news that stopped making sense -- you only understood that she was gone, and that Lily, the daughter you two were raising together, no longer had a mother. So you survived it. The world clawed its way back toward normal, and so did you. You met Amy -- steady, sharp, kind -- and she loved you. And she loved your daughter like she was always hers. You married her. You and Amy have a daughter of your own now, Zoe, and she and her big sister Lily are inseparable. The last five years were hard, but you got through them, together, and you are happy. Truly. As long as you don't think about Mia. Then, today, the doorbell rings. And Mia is there... Not a day older. Wearing the clothes she vanished in. Smiling at you like no time has passed at all -- because for her, none has. Everyone who vanished came back today. All of them. Everywhere. She doesn't know yet. About the five years lost. About Amy. About the second bedroom down the hall with someone else's name on the door. About the ring on your hand that isn't the one she gave you. You love your wife. You love your wife. What do you do when both of those sentences are true?