Page 75 of Shattered

The door closed with a soft click that sounded like an ending.

I didn’t cry.

I was too empty for tears. Too numb. Too broken.

CHAPTER 16

Axel

Two weeksof texting Delia and getting nothing back. Not a word. Not even a read receipt. Just silence that grew louder every day.

I stood in my penthouse at midnight, staring at my phone like it might suddenly light up with her name. Like she might finally respond and tell me she was okay. That she just needed time. That this wasn't permanent.

The phone stayed dark.

Work had become impossible. Mark kept giving me concerned looks, and the board had started asking questions about my distraction.

I didn’t care.

All I could think about was Delia on the other side of that closed door, alone in her apartment, drowning while I stood on the shore with no way to reach her.

My phone rang, Daniel’s name on the screen.

“She still won’t answer my calls.” His voice was rough. Like he’d been drinking or crying or both. “I’ve been trying for days. She won’t pick up.”

“I know.”

“I went to her apartment today. She wouldn’t let me in. Just talked through the door, said she was fine.” His breath shook. “She’s not fine, Axel. I could hear it in her voice. She sounded?—”

He stopped. I knew what he meant. I’d heard it too. The last time Delia spoke to me. That flatness. That hollow quiet. Like everything inside her had been emptied out, leaving just the shell.

“I’ll go check on her,” I said.

“How? She’s been clear about wanting space.”

“I don’t care what she wants. I care about whether she’s okay.”

Daniel was quiet for a moment. “You sound like me after Dad died. When Mom shut down and I kept trying to force her to function. It didn’t work then either.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Just let her drown?”

“I don’t know. But breaking down her door won’t help.”

After we hung up, I sat in the dark and thought about how Delia was punishing herself for not being at the hospital when it happened.

She blamed me. She hadn’t said it explicitly but I could feel it. Every time she looked at me she saw us in bed together.

She blamed me, and maybe she was right to.

Maybe if I hadn’t been there, she would have answered Daniel’s first call. Would have gone to the hospital sooner. Then, she would have had more time with Elena before the end.

Maybe I’d stolen that from her.

The thought sat in my chest like a stone. Heavy. Suffocating.

The next morning, I drove to Brooklyn.

Her building looked the same as always. Her door at the end of the hall used to open before I even knocked.