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My mind spirals, each possibility darker than the last, clawing at my sanity. Waking up without her beside me sends panic crashing through me, and I shout her name before I can stop myself.

That creeping sense of impending doom wraps around my skin, raising goosebumps as I rush from the bedroom towards the bathroom.

“Elara?” I call out, my voice heavy with emotions.

Not here.

“Elara?”

Not here.

I check the walk-in-closet. “Baby? Where are you?”

Not here.

Calm down. She’s here. She has to be.

I storm downstairs.

“Elara, baby. It’s not funny.”

Empty. “Elara?” Empty. Not here. “Elara?”

My breathing turns erratic, tearing out of me in sharp, uneven bursts, my mind spiralling into a frenzy as I tear through the penthouse, checking, re-checking, meeting with eerie silence.

I storm past the elevator without a second glance.

“Elara!” I shout, my voice breaking at the edges as I hurl myself down the stairwell, taking the steps two, three at a time—thirty-nine floors of nothing but panic and dread.

The pounding in my ears turns deafening, then dull, drowned out by the violent stomping of my footsteps as I descend.

“Elara!”

By the time I reach the ground floor, my lungs are burning, my chest tight, the world narrowing to one terrifying, chilling truth; she left me.

She said she loved me, and now she’s gone.

What the fuck did I do?

Is she angry because I didn’t say it back. Fuck!

But how could I say something I didn’t mean?

A chorus of sharp gasps cut through and I turn around only to find people staring at me.

Awareness dawns on me as their gaze turns pitiful and despicable. My head falling between my shoulders, realising I’m half-naked and now the world has seen my scars.

Is that why she left me? But she said they’re beautiful. “Mr. Zaytsev?” A woman’s—perhaps a receptionist’s—

hand lands on my shoulders, concern creasing her brows. “Are you okay?”

“Did…uh!” My breath stutters, refusing to steady. I drag in air like I’m drowning. “I need the camera recording from last night.” The words scrape out of me, barely coherent, my thoughts racing too fast to grasp the hollow, gaping void Elara’s absence has carved through my chest.

She keeps fucking leaving.

Why does everyone think I can be easily abandoned?

Am I just not worth staying for?