Chapter 4-
The apartment felt emptier than ever that morning. Every corner whispered his absence. Ethan's jacket was gone, his coffee mug washed, and yet it felt as if the air still carried a faint echo of him.
Amara sat at the kitchen table, her phone clutched tightly in both hands. She stared at the screen, willing it to show a missed call, a text, anything. Please, just a message…
Minutes stretched into hours. Her chest tightened with frustration, and anger began to mingle with the heartbreak she had been holding at bay. How could he just leave? Without a word? Without explanation?
She tried calling his office number, hoping a secretary might answer. Nothing. She messaged his friends silence. Even his mother's number went unanswered. Each "delivered" ping from her phone felt like a small, cruel reminder: he was gone.
By late afternoon, exhaustion had settled over her. But giving up wasn't in her nature. She grabbed her coat, purse, and a small notebook she kept for job applications. If Ethan would not reach her, perhaps she would have to find him.
Her first stop was the café where they had first met the one place she hoped he might return to, even for a fleeting moment. She asked the barista about him, but the only answer was a polite shrug. No one had seen him.
Frustrated, she walked the streets of the city almost aimlessly, yet every turn seemed to echo with memories of him. The laughter they shared, the quiet moments they had stolen from the world memories now tinged with sharp regret.
By the time she returned home, her feet ached, and her phone was nearly dead. She sank onto the couch, hugging her belly. I can't wait forever, she whispered. I have to keep going… for you.
Just as she was about to give in to despair, a new notification blinked on her screen—a text from an unknown number:
"Amara, we need to talk. It's important. –E"
Her heart skipped. Relief and fear collided inside her. She stared at the screen, trembling. Was it really him? Was he finally coming back, or was this some cruel trick?
She took a deep breath, fingers hovering over the reply button. What do I even say after five years of silence?
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again. A second message appeared:
"Come to the old pier at 7 PM. I'll explain everything. Don't bring anyone else."
Amara's heart pounded. Every instinct screamed both yes and no. She wanted answers, yet part of her feared what she might hear. She thought of her daughter, of the life she had built alone, and of the man who had abandoned them both.
Could she really face him?