Elara's POV

I didn't bother to be courteous as I pressed the red button.

Customer care? Seriously? At a time like this?

My hand found its way to my head as I wiped off the beads of sweat that had formed.

Where the hell Ivan. I raised my phone to my eye level, and oh God, it’s so late.

Where was he at 11 pm? , the latest he’s ever been was 9pm.

I dialled the number again and brought the phone to my ear as I listened to the callertune repeat for the umpteenth time tonight.

And like the other times, it went to voicemail.

I cleared my throat.

“Darling, please call me! Where are you? I’m worried. Love you!” I let out a deep sigh as my eyes trailed to the dining area.

The food had gone cold by now. The corner of my eyes itched as tears threatened to give way.

My left hand floated to my belly as I gave it a gentle rub.

“Mummy’s worried about daddy, baby”

Where could he be?

I picked the phone up again and dialled the number. Same result.

Fuck! What’s happening?

I shifted in where I sat. My back was aching, but I didn't want to lay down.

What if I fall asleep and he comes back!

And so I waited, my back to the chair, aching like no other, but no matter how long I waited, he didn’t come.

My eyes drifted to the wall clock. It was now 2am. My stomach rumbled with hunger, but i won’t eat without him. My heart began to lurch at what could have happened.

I closed my eyes tightly and opened it with a new resolve.

I picked up the phone and dialled the number slowly, one after the other.

“911, what’s your emergency?”the voice rang from the other side, almost immediately.

“It’s my husband,” I said slowly.

“What happened to your husband ma’am?” the representative asked.

And she got me thinking. What happened to my husband?

“Are you there, ma'am?" her voice broke my thoughts.

“Yes, yes. I am”

“Your husband?" she asked again.

“Yes. My husband is yet to return from work!”

“How long has it been?” she asked with an uninterested voice.

“A few hours, I guess?” I said, my speech breaking.

“How old is your husband, ma'am?"

My brows scrunched at her weird question. “He’s 25!” I answered anyway.

“So he’s old enough. Has he been gone for 24 hours maam?” she asked again.

“No. He was home this morning!” I said defensively.

“We can’t declare him missing unless he’s been gone for 24 hours ma’am!”

“But he's never been this late. He could be in danger!” I said, raising my voice!

“There’s nothing I can do ma’am. If he’s still not back by 24 hours, you can file a missing person’s report at the station nearest to you!” she said, without any emotion.

“But…” I tried to talk some more, but the next thing I heard was the beep sound.I stared at the phone. My thumb hovered over the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to call again. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that makes your skin crawl. It felt like the silence was pushing on my chest, squeezing tight.

My stomach growled. Loud. Ugly. I hadn’t eaten all day—not really. I just waited. Like an idiot.

I sat at the table, the food cold and soggy now. I poked at it with a fork. I didn't even taste it when I forced it down. I just wanted to feel like I was doing something. For the baby, I guess.

“Daddy’s coming home,” I mumbled, hand resting on my belly. The words came out weak. Felt fake.

I couldn’t go to bed. What if he needed me? What if something happened? What if—I didn’t even wanna finish the thought.

So I stayed on the couch. Curled up with my phone, staring at the door like it owed me something. Every car that passed made my heart jump. But they kept going. They all kept going.

At some point, I must've been knocked out. My neck hurt when I sat up. Then I heard it—the keys.

I blinked. Sat up straighter. “Ivan?”

The door opened.

And there he was.

I stood up, a shaky breath in my throat, but something was... off. His shirt was wrinkled. Hair messed up. But it was his eyes. They were... gone. Like he wasn’t there anymore.

“Where were you? I—I was so scared, I even—” I reached out, but he pulled back.

“We need to talk.”

No emotion. Just cold words.

My stomach twisted. “Ivan, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Walked right past me like I was part of the furniture. Reached into his jacket and dropped a manila envelope on the table.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

I blinked. I felt the world slow down. “What... what is that?”

“Divorce papers.”

The words didn’t make sense. Like he said them in another language. Divorce? What?

“No,” I whispered. “No, you don’t mean that. We’re fine. We were happy. Just yesterday you…”

He shook his head. “I’m not happy, Elara.”

Tears burned before I could stop them. My chest was cracking open. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s not you. We’re just... not right.”

“That’s not a reason!” I shouted. Voice raw. “We’re married. We said vows. I love you.”

He looked away. “I found someone else.”

The room spun. I had to grab the couch.

“Someone else?”

And just like that,the door opened again.

She walked in like she owned the place. Long legs. Perfect makeup. Cold eyes. Her heels click on the floor like a countdown to the end of everything.

“This is Rebecca,” he said. And just like that, his voice softened. The way he used to speak to me.

She didn’t speak. Just looked around. Like my life was beneath her.

“She’s the financial director at the firm. Harvard grad. Smart. Driven. Everything I need.”

He looked at me for the first time since…..

“And you... you couldn’t even finish college.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“Ivan...”

“We’re equals,” he said. “Me and her. You and me? We don’t match.”

Not enough.

The words slammed into me like fists.

My hand dropped to my belly. The baby. Our baby. The one he’d never know.

“Sign the papers,” he said.

My fingers were shaking. I grabbed the pen. Signed every line. Ripped pieces of myself with each stroke.

“I’ll come back for my stuff later,” I whispered.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “There’s nothing here worth taking.”

I turned to leave.

“Elara,” he called. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. We have a future to build.”

We.

I stepped into the morning light.

The door shut behind me.

Like a coffin lid.

Gone.

“You couldn’t even finish college...”

“You’re just not enough.”

My feet moved, but I wasn’t walking. I was floating.

“Not enough...”

The words wouldn’t stop. They chased me.

I didn’t hear the horn.

Didn’t see the car.

Only black.