The Day He Didn't Come

Chapter Three

Isabella

​The front door of our penthouse clicked shut behind me, and the familiar, pristine silence of the hallway rushed to greet me, but instead of the heavy sadness that usually accompanied my return to this empty space, I felt a strange, hollow calm as I set my small hospital overnight bag down by the console table. My incision still pulled sharply with every step I took, but I didn't bother asking Adrian to help me inside because he had already disappeared into the kitchen to check his tablet for messages, completely oblivious to the fact that I was moving at a snail's pace just to keep from tearing my fresh stitches.

​The kitchen counter was piled high with unopened mail and various medical documents that had arrived while I was hospitalized, and as I dragged myself over to sort through them, I saw the urgent reminders for his father’s specialized cardiovascular medication alongside a draft from our public relations team regarding his recent photograph with Celeste Moreau.

​"Isabella, did you happen to call the pharmacy to renew my father's prescription before you left the clinic today, because he texted me saying he only has two doses left, and he really cannot afford to miss a single night of his heart regimen," Adrian called out from across the room, his eyes never leaving his screen as he poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the marble island.

​"No, Adrian, I was actually being discharged from major abdominal surgery this morning, so I did not have the opportunity to call the pharmacy or drive across town to collect your father's pills," I replied, my voice completely flat and devoid of the usual apologetic tone I used whenever I failed to handle his family's personal errands.

​"Well, you don't have to be so hostile about it, because I was simply asking a question since you usually handle his medical schedule, and I am obviously swamped with the upcoming neurological conference this weekend," he muttered, tossing the empty glass into the sink with a small shake of his head before he looked at me properly for the first time since we entered the house. "You've been incredibly quiet during the entire car ride home, and if you are still sulking about the restaurant incident or the fact that I had to help Celeste with her panic attack, I really think it's time to move past it because it's becoming quite exhausting to walk on eggshells in my own home."

​"I am not sulking, Adrian, I am simply tired, and I have a lot of things I need to organize before the end of the week," I said, turning away from him so he wouldn't see the utter lack of emotion in my eyes, because arguing with him felt like trying to shout into a void that swallowed everything whole.

​"Good, because my mother called earlier and she wants us to host the family dinner this Sunday to celebrate her birthday, so I told her you would handle the catering and the invitations like you always do, and she was very pleased to hear that," he said, already walking back toward his private study with his phone pressed to his ear as it began to ring with another hospital alert.

​I waited until the door to his office clicked shut before I pulled out my laptop and opened a private browsing window, my fingers moving deliberately across the keys as I typed in the search criteria for small, unfurnished apartments on the other side of the city. For seven years, I had managed his chaotic schedule, smoothed over his public relations disasters, organized his family's lives, and maintained this massive house without a single word of appreciation, but as I scrolled through the listings of quiet, one-bedroom spaces, the weight of all that invisible labor began to lift from my chest.

​"Excuse me, is this the leasing agent for the property on Oak Street, because I saw the listing online and I would like to schedule a private viewing for tomorrow afternoon if the space is still available for a long-term lease," I whispered into my phone after dialing the number on the screen, keeping my voice low so the sound wouldn't carry down the long hallway toward Adrian's study.

​"Yes, the apartment is still vacant, and we can definitely show it to you at two o'clock tomorrow if that works for your schedule, ma'am," the lady on the other end replied, her professional tone sounding like the first real step toward a freedom I hadn't allowed myself to dream of in nearly a decade.

​"That works perfectly for me, so please put me down for that slot, and I will bring all the necessary identification and financial documents to expedite the application process," I said, finalizing the appointment before hanging up and quickly closing the laptop tabs as I heard Adrian's footsteps approaching the kitchen once again.

​He walked back into the room holding his car keys and his leather briefcase, his expression entirely focused on his upcoming schedule as he adjusted his tie and checked his watch for the third time in the span of five minutes.

​"I have to head back to the medical center for an emergency consultation on a spinal trauma case, so I will probably be back very late tonight, and you don't need to bother saving any dinner for me because I will just grab something from the hospital cafeteria between my rounds," he announced, walking toward the front door without pausing to see if I needed anything or if the pain from my surgery had worsened during the afternoon.

​"Adrian, do you know what day it is tomorrow, or have you completely lost track of the calendar because of your schedule at the hospital?" I asked, stopping him just as his hand wrapped around the doorknob, because a small, desperate part of my heart was testing him one last time on a promise he had made years ago.

​"It's Tuesday, Isabella, which means I have my grand rounds in the morning and the board meeting at three, so please don't schedule anything important for us because my entire day is absolutely packed from start to finish," he replied, giving me a strange, confused look as if my question was entirely irrelevant to his life.

​"Right, it's just Tuesday," I murmured, watching him open the door and step out into the elevator lobby without another word, completely forgetting that tomorrow was the anniversary of my mother's passing, the one single date he had sworn on our wedding day that he would never allow himself to overlook.