Four
1052 Words
Marcus adrianne's best friend noticed it before he even understood it.
The bakery was open—but something felt wrong.
The bell above the door didn’t ring the way it usually did. It was too quiet, like even sound didn’t want to exist there properly.
Elena was behind the counter.
But she wasn’t moving like herself.
“Morning,” Marcus said as he stepped in.
Elena looked up immediately.
And that was when he noticed it.
Her expression wasn’t neutral.
It was tight.
Controlled.
Like she had been holding onto something all morning and hadn’t decided what to do with it yet.
“Marcus,” she said carefully. “You’re early.”
“I usually am,” he replied, scanning the shop instinctively. “Is Adrianne here yet?”
A pause.
Too long.
“No,” Elena said.
Marcus frowned slightly.
“She’s running late?”
Elena hesitated again—just a fraction, but enough.
“That’s what I thought,” she said slowly.
Something in Marcus’s chest shifted.
“What do you mean, you thought?”
Elena placed a cloth down on the counter a little too carefully.
“She left before closing yesterday,” she said. “I assumed she went home.”
Marcus straightened slightly.
“Did she text you?”
“No.”
“Call you?”
“No.”
That silence settled heavier this time.
Marcus glanced toward the back room.
“She ever do that before?”
Elena shook her head immediately.
“No. Never.”
That was the first c***k.
Small—but wrong.
Marcus pulled out his phone.
“I’ll call her.”
Elena watched him.
But her eyes weren’t calm anymore.
They were observant.
Like she was replaying something in her head she didn’t like.
Marcus stepped aside and dialed.
It rang.
Then voicemail.
He ended it immediately and tried again.
Same result.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“Okay,” he muttered. “That’s weird.”
Elena crossed her arms slowly.
“She doesn’t ignore people,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
Another attempt.
Nothing.
Marcus exhaled through his nose.
“She lives alone?” Elena asked.
“Yes.”
“Has family?”
Marcus paused slightly.
“No,” he said. “She doesn’t.”
That wasn’t entirely accurate—but it was the simplest version.
Because Adrianne didn’t talk about her past much.
Not really.
Not unless she had to.
Elena frowned slightly.
“That’s not what she told me,” she said.
Marcus looked up.
“What?”
Elena hesitated.
“She mentioned once,” she said slowly, “that her parents were journalists.”
Marcus went still.
Elena continued, voice lower now.
“She said they died when she was very young.”
A pause.
“And that she was raised in foster care after that.”
Marcus didn’t speak immediately.
That wasn’t new information—but hearing it like this… in this context… made it feel heavier.
Elena looked at him closely.
“She doesn’t talk about it often,” she added. “But… she’s not someone who disappears without saying anything.”
Marcus nodded once.
“That part I know.”
But something had already started forming in his mind.
Because Adrianne didn’t just not show up.
She didn’t ignore people.
She didn’t vanish.
Not unless something forced it.
By midday, Marcus had already tried everything.
Calls.
Messages.
Apartment check.
Nothing.
Now he was outside her building again.
Standing still.
Watching.
Thinking.
Something about this didn’t feel like normal absence anymore.
It felt like interruption.
Like someone had cut her out of her life mid-sentence.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He frowned.
He answered immediately.
“Yeah?”
Silence.
Then a voice.
Calm.
Male.
“You’re persistent.”
Marcus straightened slightly.
“Who is this?”
No answer.
“Where is Adrianne?”
A pause.
Then:
“She’s not where you’re looking.”
Marcus tightened his grip on the phone.
“Yeah? Then where is she?”
Silence again.
Then—
“Safe.”
That word again.
Marcus let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“That’s what kidnappers always say.”
A pause.
The voice didn’t react.
It didn’t deny it either.
Marcus stepped forward slightly, lowering his voice.
“Listen to me,” he said. “If you know something, you’re gonna tell me. I don’t care who you are.”
A beat.
Then the voice said:
“You should care.”
Click.
Call ended.
Marcus stared at the screen for a second.
Then slowly lowered his phone.
“…what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
That night, Marcus didn’t go home.
He sat outside Adrianne’s apartment building instead.
Just watching.
Waiting.
Because logic told him she was missing.
But instinct told him something worse.
That she wasn’t lost.
She was contained.
And someone didn’t want her found.
Elsewhere—
Adrianne stood by a window she wasn’t allowed to open.
The house was too quiet.
Too structured.
Too still.
Everything inside it felt intentional.
She pressed her fingers lightly against the glass.
Outside, the world moved normally.
Cars. Lights. People.
Life.
Her life.
Or what used to be.
A knock came at the door behind her.
She didn’t turn immediately.
She already knew who it was.
Luca.
“You need anything?” he asked from behind her.
She didn’t look at him.
“No.”
A pause.
“You haven’t eaten much.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Another pause.
Then softer—
“That won’t change anything.”
That made her finally turn slightly.
“What exactly am I supposed to be changing?”
Luca didn’t answer right away.
Because there wasn’t a good answer.
She looked back out the window.
“I have a life,” she said quietly. “People will notice I’m gone.”
A beat.
Then Luca said carefully:
“Maybe.”
That word hit harder than she expected.
Because it didn’t deny her.
It just… softened it.
Like uncertainty was already enough.
Her fingers tightened slightly against the window frame.
And for the first time since she arrived—
she didn’t feel angry.
She felt small.
She didn’t know it yet.
But somewhere in the outside world…
someone had noticed she was missing.
And they weren’t going to stop looking.
- Writer
