Chapter Five
1023 Words
Adrian
I push the front door open, expecting to find the lights blazing and Isabella waiting in the living room with that familiar, exhausted look on her face, ready to start another round of arguments about the gala, but the absolute darkness that greets me makes me pause on the threshold. I toss my briefcase onto the entryway bench and slide my keys into the ceramic bowl, the sharp metallic clink echoing through the massive apartment with a strange, hollow tone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Isabella, I'm home, and look, I know you're upset about how things handled themselves with the reporters tonight, but we really need to talk about this dramatic behavior because it's getting out of hand," I call out, walking down the long corridor toward our master suite while loosening my tie and expecting to hear her moving around in the dressing room.
I flip the light switch, but the vast space is entirely immaculate and empty, and when I pull open her closet doors to see if she's already gone to sleep, my breath catches in my throat because the custom wooden hangers are completely bare. Every single dress, her shoes, her jewelry boxes, and even the small travel suitcases she keeps on the top shelf are entirely gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of her perfume and an unbearable stillness that makes the room feel ten times larger than it actually is.
"What the hell is she playing at, where did she even find the time to pack all of this after the gala ended," I mutter to myself, a sudden spike of irritation mixing with a bizarre, unsettling knot in my stomach as I hurry back out toward the main living area to check the rest of the house.
As I step into the formal dining room, the overhead light reveals a neat stack of documents resting perfectly in the center of the dark mahogany table, a sleek silver pen placed right beside them as if inviting me to read the bold, unmistakable heading printed across the very first page.
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage and Division of Assets.
I stare down at her elegant signature at the bottom of the page, my mind absolutely refusing to process the reality of the words, because Isabella has threatened to leave before during our worst fights, but she has never actually cleared out her belongings or involved a legal firm.
"This is ridiculous, she's just trying to scare me because of Celeste, she wouldn't actually throw away seven years of marriage over a misunderstanding at a charity function," I say aloud, pulling my phone from my pocket with trembling fingers and immediately dialing her number as I pace back and forth across the marble floor.
The line rings four times before it cuts directly to her automated greeting, and I slam the phone down onto the counter, my chest tightening with a furious, defensive heat because she is actively choosing to ignore my calls instead of resolving this like an adult.
I dial her number again, and then a third time, the repetitive ringing sound becoming the only noise inside the suffocating silence of the penthouse, which suddenly feels entirely devoid of life without the subtle background movements I always took for granted, like the hum of her laptop or the soft sound of her footsteps in the kitchen.
Isabella
The bright, white glare of the terminal screens reflects off the glass windows as I hand my boarding pass to the gate agent, the busy chatter of holiday travelers and the distant rumble of jet engines providing a comforting shield against the life I am officially leaving behind me. I walk down the jet bridge with my small carry-on bag, the sharp ache in my abdomen from my recent surgery still reminding me to pace myself, but my heart feels lighter with every single step I take away from the city that broke me.
My phone vibrates violently in my coat pocket for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes, and when I pull it out to see Adrian's name flashing across the screen, I don't feel the familiar rush of anxiety or the urge to answer and offer another apology for making his life difficult.
"Ma'am, please ensure your electronic devices are switched to airplane mode as we prepare for departure, because the cabin doors are about to close," the flight attendant says, offering me a polite smile as I step into the aircraft and locate my seat near the window.
"Of course, I am turning it off right now, thank you," I reply, my voice completely steady as I slide my thumb across the screen, powering down the device entirely and sliding it into the deep recess of my purse before fastening my seatbelt.
Adrian
I drop heavily into the leather chair in my study, the silence of the apartment pressing down on my ears until I can literally hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway, and with a sense of growing desperation, I redial her number just to see if the phone will finally connect.
"Hi, you've reached Isabella Vale, I am currently unavailable to take your call right now, so please leave a detailed message after the tone and I will get back to you as soon as possible," her voice echoes through the small speaker of my device, sounding incredibly soft, gentle, and completely disconnected from the angry reality I am facing in our empty home.
The call disconnects with a sharp beep, and I look down at the dark screen of my phone as a cold, terrifying realization begins to sink into my chest, because as I try to replay the message in my mind to find some hint of where she might have gone, I cannot actually remember the last time I sat down and truly listened to the sound of her voice without interrupting her with my own schedule.
- Writer
