The Don's blind bride

June Water dripped somewhere in the distance, steady and irritating. Voices floated around outside, blurred into background noise. None of it mattered. Not compared to the one thing I wanted to hear. My husband’s footsteps. I pressed closer to the window. The flowers Mark and I planted together brushed against the sill, filling the air with the faint scent of jasmine. I reached out and touched their petals. Soft. Real. Unlike the growing terror that he’d simply vanished. Where was he? I have been waiting. The soup I prepared stayed cold on the table. “Call Sarah,” I said into my phone. “Calling Sarah,” the AI responded. After a long buzzing, she finally answered. “Hey, June.” “Hey. Have you seen Mark? Maybe he stopped by with your dog or… I don’t know… football with Tyler?” “Nope. Haven’t seen him in a week.” She paused. “Is something wrong?” “I’ve been calling him nonstop. He isn’t answering. I’m worried.” I say, my voice trembling. “Relax, doll,” she said between bites — probably an apple. “He’s probably out drinking.” “Mark doesn’t drink,” I muttered. “He only drinks water.” “Fine. Smoking then. Men either smoke or drink. It gotta be one of the two, right?” “He doesn’t smoke anymore. He quit because I hate the smell.” I pointed out. “Then he’ll be back,” she said gently. “He’s a good guy.” “I’m going to look for him.” I stated. “I'm worried that something bad has happened to him.” “And I’m coming with you,” she said. A door opened on her end. “Can’t lose my blind friend.” The doorbell rang minutes later. I wheeled myself toward it and opened the door. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” she sighed. “We can’t file a missing person report yet.” “But we can look,” I said, already grabbing my cane, boots, and jacket. “Just support me.” I took his picture with me as well in case someone saw him. We went everywhere — cafés, parks, every place we’d ever gone together. Nothing. Not a trace. People say they have never seen him before. I can't believe that. People looked at the photo like they’d never seen him and then at us and shook their heads like we are some lunatics. But I knew him. I touched him. Slept beside him. I loved him. I even f****d him. “You believe me, right?” I asked as we sat on a cold bench by the train station. “Well…” she hesitated. “He always felt… weird. We never stayed for dinner. Maybe he ran away.” “He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” I snapped. “I believe you, June.” She squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll keep looking.” But that night, hope dissolved into dread. I couldn't sleep at all. I stayed up all night listening for familiar footsteps and that soft baritone saying he got caught up in traffic except it never came. By dawn, I was at the police station ready to file my report. The officer studied the picture, then my face. “What’s his full name?” “Mark Lawson. He’s my husband.” He typed for a while. “The database shows no one with that name.” “Check again,” I demanded. “Please.” He tried. Again. And again. Then he sighed. “How did you two meet?” “In the park. I was lost. He helped me with my navigation problem. He said he had no family but our marriage worked.” “No marriage certificate?” “We married legally,” I insisted. “He keeps the documents. I have pictures.” “Ma’am…” he exhaled. “You may have been duped.” “That’s impossible.” Panic crawled into my throat. “He never asked me for money — he provides for us.” “Then maybe he left because he couldn’t handle your condition.” The words hit harder than any slap. “He would never do that.” I whispered. “We’ll see what we can do,” he muttered — then tossed the report straight into the trash. I could hear the sharp thud of the paper into the trashcan. I sighed, tears threatening to fall as I picked up my bag and cane and walked away. Days blurred together. A week and five days. And nothing, not even a peep. It was like he vanished into thin air. Hope began to rot inside me. Nothing felt good anymore. Sarah knocked on my door frantically and when I didn't answer, she turned the knob. “You won’t believe this!” Sarah burst in. “Good news!” “What?” I muttered, drinking straight from a tequila bottle. I regard her with disinterest. “I contacted someone about your case— she works with the CIA. She can help track him.” The bottle slipped from my hand and shattered. I got up, my eyes wide with renewed hope. “He’ll be found,” Sarah whispered and hugged me. I couldn't contain my joy. I'll see him again. I showered. Changed into a nice dress he got me. I tried to breathe. Hope comes alive in my chest again. I can finally breathe. “I haven’t taken my medication yet!” I yelled. “It’s in the cabinet.” “This container?” Sarah asked. “I guess. Mark sorts my pills.” I shrugged. “He even made a divider so I can distinguish between one for my legs and for my eyes.” Silence. I dropped my toothbrush and listened for her footsteps. “Babe…” her voice cracked. “This isn’t medication for your eyesight.” “What?” I breathed out. I am confused right now. “These aren’t yours. They can damage eyesight and bones if taken long-term.” My heart stopped. I can't deny that Sarah is a pharmacist and she knows her job pretty well. “He’s been giving you the wrong drugs on purpose.” She yelled. The world tilted. Bile forms in my throat. I could taste the bitterness. “He—Mark—he wouldn’t—” I trembled, my hands clutching the sink tightly. “He f*****g did, June,” she shouted. “He’s been poisoning you.” I grabbed the chair as the realization crushed me. I let gravity pull me down to the floor. My husband didn’t disappear unintentionally. He left me.