Dominic
I walked through the door with my tie half undone and my head already aching from the board meeting. It had run longer than expected — all numbers, mergers, polite power plays. Everything I used to love, or at least know how to control.
But the whole time, I couldn't stop checking my phone.
Lila hadn't texted me back. Not even a "hey." Not even the simple one-word answers she'd grown fond of in the last few weeks.
And now, as I stepped into the house, something felt… wrong.
The lights were off. Not dim. Off.
The quiet wasn't the usual peaceful kind I'd come to appreciate. It was hollow. Heavy.
I dropped my keys onto the marble counter and called her name once.
"Lila?"
No answer.
My chest tightened.
I checked the living room. The kitchen. The library.
Nothing.
I moved faster now, climbing the stairs two at a time. I opened the door to the bedroom.
And froze.
The closet was empty.
Not cleaned. Not "she went shopping" empty.
Gone empty.
My pulse pounded in my ears as I turned in place, like maybe I missed something. Like maybe I was dreaming.
That's when I saw it — on the desk.
The contract.
Signed.
My name next to hers, the black ink still crisp.
And on top of it — the ring.
The diamond caught the soft light pouring in from the window, glittering like betrayal. Or maybe justice.
My chest caved in.
"No," I breathed, stepping forward like I could stop time just by willing it.
I grabbed the paper. Read it again. Read her signature over and over like it would somehow rewrite itself.
She left.
She really left.
I sank into the chair behind the desk and stared at the ring, my mind racing, panicking, trying to make sense of it.
We were doing better — weren't we?
She had smiled at me. She had let me hold her. She had let me believe…
God, she let me believe she was okay.
But she wasn't.
She had just endured me.
The last two months — her soft words, the way she let me kiss her in the morning, the way she laid beside me at night without pulling away — it was all a performance. A delicate, deadly act to make it to the finish line.
And I didn't even see it.
I had hurt her. Over and over. And she had tucked that pain deep inside her chest and smiled anyway.
That's what destroyed me most.
That she didn't even fight with me this time.
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She just… left.
Because she had nothing left to say.
I raked a hand through my hair, trying to breathe. Trying to think.
I wanted to call her. I wanted to find her. I wanted to drive to her parents' house, knock on every door in this godforsaken city until I saw her face again.
But I didn't move.
Because what would I even say?
What could I say that would undo everything I did?
My fists clenched on the edge of the desk.
She was gone.
And I didn't just lose her.
I made her run.