Nothing.
I ride the elevator up alone. The silence inside is brutal, nearly making me nauseous.
The second the doors open, I pull out my phone to check for texts.
Nothing.
I unlock my room and step inside. It’s too empty. Even though Aliko has never been here, or in any ofmyrooms, it feels off. Maybe I should go wait in his room? No, that feels worse. Because if I wake up in his room without him, I don’t know what I’ll do. Best I just stay here, alone, and wait for a call or a text.
Maybe it’ll all be a misunderstanding. Maybe he’s out buying me flowers or getting food, and his phone died.
I change into something more comfortable, because if Aliko does show up, I don’t think I want to go out to eat anymore. He’ll be okay with ordering something. He always is.
I want to get into bed, crawl up into a tiny ball, and fall asleep.
Instead, I'm standing in the middle of the room staring at my phone like a lunatic.
I toss it onto the bed.
Five seconds later, I pick it back up.
Then I toss it down again.
Then I pick it up.
This is ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.
He's fine. He has to be fine.
I drop onto the edge of the bed, my body numb. My brain is foggy, and I’m suddenly exhausted.
Aliko wouldn’t leave. He just wouldn’t. Not like this. Not without saying anything to anyone else. If he was going to be a coward and break up with me like this, fine. But he wouldn’t leave the guys without saying anything, and I believe that they don’t know where he is.
Aliko loves being part of the band. He loves the music.
And he fucking loves me.
He loves me.
He wouldn’t go.
My chest tightens. Something is wrong. Nothing else makes sense.
I should relax. Go to sleep. But I can’t. I’m restless. My brain won’t stop. I get out of bed, walk around the room, try to watch TV. Then I get back into bed. Nothing works. Nothing makes me feel better. With nothing left to do, I jump in the shower.
The hot water relaxes me a fraction, but mostly I just have memories of Aliko in here with me.
Where the fuck is he?
Emotion clogs my throat and I fight back tears. I’m being dramatic. It’s one night. One time. He’s celebrating the end of his tour. He’s probably out and just… forgot.
Forgot about me…
That’s shitty, yeah. It really is. But I can forgive him for that.
Problem is, as each second passes, it feels like a year. And I don’t think my heart can take much more of this.
My phone is lit up when I’m out of the bathroom. I race toward it, but it’s just an email. My heart sinks again. That’s when it allbecomes too overwhelming and the tears spill. Deep, heavy sobs wrack my body, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I don’t bother throwing on clothes, I just turn the lights off, crawl into bed, and stay there until the morning.
