Chapter 2 - The Sound of Emptiness
Back in the city, Mark strolled into the apartment carrying a bouquet of grocery-store lilies and a takeout bag of the spicy Thai noodles I liked. His shoulders felt lighter than they had in days. He had played the white knight once again, pulling Rachel back from another orchestrated ledge of despair, and in his mind, he had the best of both worlds: a woman who validated his hero complex, and a sensible, forgiving fiancée waiting patiently at home to build a comfortable domestic life with him.
""Anna?"" he called out, toeing off his loafers in the entryway. ""I'm back, honey. I know it's later than we planned, but we can hit the courthouse first thing tomorrow morning instead. The clerk’s office is open on Friday.""
Silence answered him. A peculiar, echoing hollow that shouldn't exist in a fully furnished two-bedroom home.
He walked into the living room. The large velvet sofa was there, but my hand-knitted throws and linen cushions were gone. He walked down the corridor to our bedroom. The walk-in closet door stood open. His custom suits hung in orderly rows, but the entire left side of the closet was bare down to the wooden hangers. The dresser had been wiped clean with lemon polish. The perfume bottles that usually scented the bedroom with crushed lavender and vanilla had vanished without leaving a trace.
Mark felt the first cold prickle of genuine panic clawing at his throat. ""Anna? Stop playing games. Where are you?""
He hurried into the kitchen. Sitting beneath the recessed spotlight on the white marble island was the ring box, wide open, the diamond catching the glare of the ceiling bulbs. Tucked beneath the black velvet box were three folded pieces of paper.
He ripped them open, expecting a furious manifesto, an ultimatum, or a frantic list of grievances. What he found were cold, bureaucratic cancellations:
Reservation Cancellation Notice: Grand Plaza Ballroom — Canceled by Anna Miller.
Floral Arrangement Order: White Roses and Eucalyptus — Canceled by Anna Miller.
Full Deposit Forfeiture Acknowledgment — Signed: Anna Miller.
His hands began to shake violently. He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial.
""The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer receiving calls.""
He frantically redialed. Same automated, emotionless operator. He dialed her best friend, Chloe.
Chloe picked up on the eighth ring. Before he could speak, she unloaded with venom that made his ears ring. ""Don't you ever call this phone again, you narcissistic coward. She is gone, Mark. G-O-N-E. You chose your professional damsel-in-distress over the woman who carried your entire life on her back. Now you can go play nursemaid to Rachel for the rest of your pathetic existence. You don't deserve Anna's shadow, and you will never see her face again.""
May you like
Chloe hung up.
Mark stood in the hollow apartment as the dusk turned into deep night. He drove to her parents' house, pounding on the front door until the porch light flicked on. Her father opened the door just an inch, his voice dangerously low. ""Leave this property before I call the sheriff, Mark. You don't have a fiancée anymore. You threw a diamond into the dirt to chase a pebble. Now live with it.""
