Jonah's POV

Two weeks. Fourteen days of waking up to silence in an empty house. Fourteen days of dialing Sienna’s number just to hear her voicemail kick in. Fourteen days of forcing myself to act like everything is perfectly fine when it’s anything but.

This time, I know she isn’t just upset. She’s furious. Hurt. And worse, she means it.

I glare at the plate of food in front of me. The scrambled eggs are completely cold, untouched. The toast, limp and soaked from sitting too long on the table. Vivienne’s cooking isn’t exactly masterful.

“You should eat something,” she insists, pulling up a chair across from me. There’s an edge to her voice, though she’s trying to sound patient. “You’re losing too much weight.”

I shove the plate out of my way without looking at her. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re only human, Jonah. You need food whether you feel like it or not—especially since you skipped dinner last night.” Her tone shifts slightly, hinting at something sharper under the surface. Disapproval, maybe? Frustration? “Face it—she’s not coming back.”

Before I have a chance to say anything, the doorbell interrupts us. I glance at the clock. Not even nine yet. Who’s knocking this early?

When I check the peephole, I see Jareth and Briony Sinclair standing on the porch. Sienna’s parents. My chest tightens immediately.

I open the door, and Briony rushes forward, her pale face lined with worry. “Jonah,” she starts, her voice cracking. “Have you heard from Sienna?”

“No,” I answer, the word harsher than I intend. “Not a word since she left.”

Jareth steps closer beside her. His expression is grim, his voice taut with unease. “It’s been two weeks since we’ve heard anything. Radio silence. That’s not like her.”

I step aside, letting them into the house. Vivienne vanishes upstairs without a word—clearly sensing the tension in the air.

Briony paces across the living room, her hands trembling. “She’s eight months pregnant, Jonah. Eight. She could go into labor any day now. What if she’s all alone? What if something happened?”

The thought feels like a knife stabbing me in the chest. My voice is quieter when I reply, more defensive. “She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t risk herself or the baby.”

“Are you sure?” Jareth spins to face me, his expression hard. “She was in the middle of nowhere, on a dark road. Abandoned. All because you had something more important to deal with. How exactly is that the decision of someone who’s thinking clearly?”

His words strike me with the force of a sledgehammer because I can’t deny them. It’s my fault she walked away. My fault she felt like she had no one left to turn to.

I drop my gaze. “I’ve been calling her. She just… she won’t answer.”

“What about her friend?” Briony’s voice cuts through my shame. “Celeste. Have you talked to Celeste?”

I blink, suddenly snapping out of the fog. Of course. Celeste. Why didn’t I call her sooner?

“I know where she lives,” I say, heading immediately for my car keys. “Let’s go.”

The ride to Celeste’s place feels like it’s taking hours instead of minutes. Every red light drags. Every passing moment feels unbearable. Briony fidgets in the passenger seat, wringing her hands like they’re the source of all her anxiety. Jareth stays silent in the back, his jaw set tight as he stares out the window.

When we finally reach her building, I don’t waste time. Leaving the engine running, I bolt up the metal stairs two at a time, adrenaline pumping. I pound on the door with the flat of my hand, not caring if it’s too early for anyone to be awake.

“Celeste! Open the door!”

After a moment of silence, the door creaks open. There she is, bleary-eyed with bedhead, wearing mismatched pajamas. Her annoyed glare sharpens the moment she spots who's at her door.

“Jonah?” she snaps. “What the hell? It’s not even ten yet—” Her words cut off as she notices Briony and Jareth standing a few steps behind me. “Oh.”

“Where’s Sienna?” I demand, heart pounding. “Is she here?”

Celeste folds her arms defiantly, leaning against the doorframe. “She’s not here. And no, you’re not coming in to search.”

Briony steps forward, her voice trembling. “Please, Celeste. We just need to know if she’s safe. It’s been two weeks. We haven’t heard anything!”

Celeste’s sharp laugh surprises us all. “Two weeks? Funny, isn’t it? You wait until now to suddenly care about her?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jareth demands. Anger finally breaking through his stern demeanor.

“It means,” Celeste says coldly, “the second you discovered the truth, you made it perfectly clear Sienna was no longer part of the family. Remember what you did? You froze her accounts, gave her inheritance to someone else, and then moved Vivienne into her old room!”

“That’s not fair,” Briony protests, tears forming in her eyes.

“Isn’t it?” Celeste snaps back, her eyes blazing. “Explain how else that’s supposed to feel to her. She felt abandoned. Cast aside like trash. And now you’re worried?”

Her pointed accusation hangs in the space between us, cutting through like shards of glass. None of us speaks. No defense feels adequate. It’s all true. Every bit of it.

Grinding my teeth, I force myself to speak again. “So… is she here or not?”

“No,” Celeste says flatly. Her tone makes it clear there’s no room for argument. “She’s not. And honestly? Even if she were, I wouldn’t let any of you near her.”

“Come on,” I try, desperation seeping into my voice. “Just tell me where she is. That’s all I’m asking.”

“She’s somewhere you can’t hurt her anymore.”

“Celeste, please—”

“I’m serious, Jonah. You had your chance. She’s done with all of you. She told me she wouldn’t be coming back.”

The words slam into me. I barely register what’s happening as Celeste disappears briefly and comes back holding a folded document. Without a word, she holds it up in front of me.

It takes me a second to understand what I’m looking at. Divorce papers. Fully signed, filed, and finalized. My name sits there at the bottom in sharp, precise black ink. Neat. Official.

“She got the finalized papers about a week ago,” Celeste announces. “Congratulations, Jonah. You’re no longer married.”

“That’s…” I swallow hard. “That’s impossible. I never signed them.”

The blunt disbelief in my tone makes Celeste pause before her sharp gaze narrows. “Of course you did. That’s your name.”

I shake my head, jaw tightening. “It looks like my signature, but it isn’t. That’s not my handwriting. Somebody forged it.”

“Right.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“I’m telling the truth.”

Briony makes one last attempt, her hands clasped in front of her chest like she’s praying. “Please, we can fix this. We can make amends, I swear.”

Celeste lets out a sharp breath, turning slightly toward her door. “No, you can’t. You can’t undo years of pain. You can’t erase what she’s been through. And she’s better off without you.”

The door shuts firmly, leaving us outside with nothing but silence and regret.