Morning broke pale and empty over the villa.The curtains stirred faintly with the wind, brushing against the glass like whispers of a life that no longer lived there. Kael woke to the sound of rain tapping against the balcony doors — slow, rhythmic, patient — as though the world itself was waiting for him to open his eyes and face what he'd done.
He didn't. Not right away.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, his mind fogged with the remains of last night — the confessions, the ghosts, the unbearable clarity that came too late. His tie was still loose around his neck; he hadn't even changed before collapsing onto the bed. His phone sat face-down on the nightstand, screen dark, indifferent.
When he finally reached for it, the time glared at him: 7:02 a.m.No messages.No missed calls.
He scrolled to her name — Amara C.His thumb hovered over the call button, the hesitation stretching longer than it should have.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
He held his breath.Then the sound cut off, replaced by the sterile tone of voicemail.
"The number you're trying to reach is unavailable at the moment. Please—"
He ended the call before it finished.
Kael stared at the phone, his jaw tightening. Once could've been bad signal. Twice — maybe she was busy. But when he called again, and again, and each time met that same mechanical rejection, something inside him cracked — small, invisible, but deep.
He tossed the phone aside and swung his legs off the bed. The floor was cold beneath his feet. The villa itself felt colder now — vast, quiet, unwelcoming. Every shadow reminded him of what he'd chased away.
"She's angry," he muttered to himself, his voice rough and hoarse. "She's just… cooling off."
He said it as fact.But the tremor in his voice made it sound like prayer.
By noon, silence had become unbearable.He couldn't stand the echo of his own footsteps anymore, the way the rooms answered him with nothing but emptiness. Pride told him to wait — she'd return when she was ready.But guilt told him to move.
He listened to the latter.
The drive to her apartment was a blur. He didn't remember taking his keys, didn't remember locking the door. The world outside was drained of colour — the same grey as his thoughts.
When he arrived, her building looked the same: modest, familiar, painfully ordinary. He parked by the curb and climbed the narrow stairs, every step heavier than the one before.
Her door stood at the end of the hallway — pale cream, with a small potted plant she'd always forgotten to water sitting beside it.He stared at it for a long time before knocking.
Once. Twice.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder this time. "Amara, it's me."
The sound of his voice startled him — sharp, desperate, echoing off the corridor walls. He waited for the sound of movement, the shuffle of footsteps, and the click of the lock.
Nothing.
The hallway stayed still.
He pressed his forehead against the door, eyes closing. "You can be angry," he murmured. "Just… open the door."
Silence answered.
He swallowed hard. Then, with a hint of impatience in his movement, he pulled out his phone and called the building manager. A few minutes later, a middle-aged man appeared at the end of the hallway, surprised to see him.
"Sir? Something wrong?"
"I just need to check on someone," Kael said, voice tight but measured. "Amara Castellanos — unit 305. She hasn't been answering calls."
The man hesitated, his expression dimming. "Ah… Miss Amara."He rubbed the back of his neck. "She, uh, moved out. About a week and a half ago."
Kael blinked. "What?"
"Left early in the morning. Had everything boxed up. Said she was going to stay with relatives, maybe transfer jobs."He hesitated, watching Kael's expression carefully. "Didn't leave a forwarding address."
Kael stared past him at the door.It felt like the ground tilted beneath him.
"She moved out…" he repeated dully. "Without saying anything."
The man nodded. "Yes, sir. She seemed in a hurry. Quiet girl, though. Always polite."
Kael's throat tightened. "Thank you."
When the man left, Kael stood motionless for a long time. Then, almost absently, he brushed his fingertips over the door handle — a silent, helpless gesture — before turning away.
As he walked back down the hall, a faint trace of her perfume lingered in the air — that soft floral scent she used to wear. It clung to the corners, faint but undeniable, like memory itself refusing to fade.
He remembered her laughter echoing down this same corridor. Her slippers by the door. Her voice, sleepy and warm, asking if he wanted coffee before work.
Now, it was all gone. Erased, like she'd never existed there at all.
He drove off before the weight of it could crush him.
By evening, Kael sat in his office — sleeves rolled up, phone pressed to his ear.
"Liam," he said when his friend picked up, voice tight. "Do you know where Amara went?"
A pause. "What are you talking about?"
"She's not answering calls. She's not at the villa. Not at her old apartment either. Someone must know."
"Kael…" Liam's voice dropped, cautious. "I don't know. Maybe she just needed space."
"Space?" Kael let out a bitter laugh. "She packed up and left, Liam. No note. No goodbye. Just gone."
Liam exhaled sharply. "For heaven's sake, man. She just had her leave — not vanished. Maybe she went to another town. To breathe. To clear her head. To get away from everything you put her through. And when she's ready… maybe things will feel normal again. Like before."
Kael said nothing.
Then, softer — "After what happened… can you really blame her? Just give her room, Kael."
Kael closed his eyes. "I didn't hurt her," he lied. "Not really. It was just—misunderstanding."
Liam didn't respond. The silence on the line was louder than any accusation.
"She'll come back," Kael murmured, more to the empty room than to Liam. "She always does."
When the line went dead, Kael stared out the window at the city below — glittering, alive, and utterly indifferent to his unravelling.
He didn't notice Clariss watching from the glass partition outside his office.
The next moment, his phone buzzed on the desk — a notification lighting up the screen.
It wasn't from Amara. It was from Clariss.
Clariss:Can we talk? Just for a moment.
Kael's thumb hovered above the screen — the faint reflection of his face caught in the black glass. Only a quiet, unyielding chill.