He tried again, his pulse racing, but the same message repeated, cold and impersonal. Frustration boiled over, and he switched to texting: "Eliana, I'm ready to talk. Call me as soon as you get this. We need to discuss everything." He hit send, watching the delivery status. Undelivered. A red exclamation mark blinked like a warning light.
A pit opened in his stomach, cold and dense, dragging him under like lead sinking into black water. The weight of it made it hard to breathe. Something was wrong—terribly, bone-deep wrong.
Eliana had been persistent to the point of breaking. She'd shown up at his office despite the icy walls he'd built, stood outside his home in the rain when he refused to let her in, left messages at hours when the city itself slept. Her loyalty had burned bright, steady—a flame he'd deliberately turned his back on. And now, the very moment he was ready to lower his guard, ready to listen… she was gone.
It didn't fit. None of it.
