Elliot was still standing at Val's door when the lift chimed at the end of the hallway.
He didn't turn right away, he couldn't seem to move, but he heard the familiar footsteps, the purposeful stride.
"Noah?" Elliot said quietly, eyes still fixed on the door.
"Yeah," Noah replied, stopping beside him. "What's up, buddy? Why are you —"
He stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene:
Elliot pale, stiff, eyes wide and unsettled.
Val's silent door.
The note still clutched in Elliot's hand.
"What's going on?" Noah asked, voice soft, but firm.
Elliot swallowed hard. "She… she didn't answer."
"Did you try knocking?"
Elliot nodded. "Three times. She always answers. Always." His chest tightened. "She left me a note. For breakfast. But she's not... she's not answering."
Noah's expression shifted, from confusion to concern.
He stepped closer. "Okay. Tell me everything."
Elliot forced his breath to slow, but the words trembled out of him anyway.
"She... last night, she came home. She was… drunk. Really drunk." His voice cracked slightly. "She didn't want dinner. She said she wanted to drink more. And then —"
He swallowed again, throat tight.
"And then a man came. I think it was her ex. He was shouting at her. She told him to go away. She sounded… scared. She was crying."
Noah's jaw tightened. "Why didn't you call me?"
Elliot shook his head rapidly. "I thought she was mad at me. I thought she didn't want me involved."
Noah exhaled slowly, guilt flickering across his face. "Okay. All right. And this morning?"
"I found the note," Elliot said, holding it up. "She pushed it under my door. But I never heard her leave the apartment. And now..." His voice dropped to a raw whisper. "Now she won't open the door."
Noah didn't hesitate.
"Okay," he said firmly. "Okay. I'm calling the police."
Elliot flinched, panic flooding him. "The police?"
"She could be hurt," Noah said. "She could've gotten sick during the night or... Elliot, we can't just stand here."
He stepped back, pulling out his phone.
Elliot stood rigid, heart hammering while Noah explained to the dispatcher:
A vulnerable resident.
Possible medical emergency.
No response.
No sounds inside.
"We'll send someone," the operator said. "But it may take a couple of hours."
"A couple..." Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Fine. Send them."
He hung up and exhaled sharply.
"Okay. Do you know her phone number?"
Elliot nodded immediately. "She wrote it down for me weeks ago. In case of… anything."
"Good. Give it to me."
He recited the number, stumbling once.
Noah dialed.
It didn't ring.
Straight to voicemail.
Noah stared at the phone. "Dead or off."
Elliot's stomach lurched. "Why would she turn it off?"
"I don't know," Noah said, too quickly. "Battery. Forgot to charge it. It happens."
Not to Val.
Not in the morning.
Not after leaving a note she was excited about.
Elliot felt the certainty settle like a stone deep in his gut.
Something had happened.
"Let's talk to building security," Noah said, already moving. "Maybe they saw something."
The security office smelled faintly of coffee and old carpet.
Alfie, the morning guard, a soft-spoken man with kind eyes looked up from his monitors as they entered.
"Morning," he said. "Everything okay?"
Noah didn't waste time. "We're trying to find Val Newman. In 4B. She didn't respond when we knocked on her door."
Alfie's brows lifted. "Oh… Val? Pretty girl, bright hair? Works at Tony's café?"
"Yes," Elliot said quickly. "Her."
"What do you mean she hasn't answered?"
"We don't think she's in there," Noah said. "Did you see her leave this morning?"
Alfie thought for a moment. "Yeah, actually. Early. Very early. I think around six? She had a shopping bag. Looked like she was heading toward the convenience store."
Elliot blinked. "She left?"
"Pretty sure. I haven't seen her come back."
Noah let out a slow breath, relieved. "Okay. So she went out." He turned to Elliot. "Maybe she got called into work. Or met someone. Or..."
"No," Elliot whispered.
Both men turned to him.
Elliot stood very still, hands trembling slightly at his sides.
"She wouldn't," he said, voice thin. "Not without telling me. Not after… not after last night. Not after the note."
He could feel his thoughts spiralling, slipping through his grasp like sand.
Maybe Noah was right.
Maybe she was fine.
Maybe she'd just gone somewhere and forgotten her phone...
Maybe...
Maybe...
But the sickness in his stomach twisted harder.
Noah placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go back upstairs, okay? We'll wait for the police. She's probably fine."
Elliot didn't believe that.
Not even a little.
But he followed anyway.
Back inside Elliot's apartment, the world felt wrong. Too quiet. Too bright.
Noah guided him to the sofa. "Sit. Breathe. We'll figure it out."
Elliot sat.
But he didn't breathe.
He didn't move.
His body froze, his shoulders were stiff, his hands locked together, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor.
Noah crouched in front of him. "Hey. El. Talk to me."
Nothing.
Inside, Elliot was sinking, fast, into a familiar, terrifying stillness.
She wouldn't leave. She wouldn't disappear. She wouldn't ignore him. She wouldn't.
Unless she couldn't.
Unless something terrible had happened.
His vision blurred.
His heartbeat thudded in his ears.
Noah called his name again, firmly, then again, a touch softer.
But Elliot didn't respond.
Because every part of him, every instinct, every fear, was screaming the same thing:
Something bad has happened to Val.
And he had no idea how to stop the dread swallowing him whole.