Sebastian
The plane feels unbearably small.
The hum of the engines thrums against my chest, matching the erratic beat of my heart. I wipe my palms against my slacks for the hundredth time, but they won’t stop sweating.
My fingers grip the armrests, knuckles white, as if holding on for dear life. I’m suffocating in this seat, and no amount of whisky can calm the storm raging inside me.
Elizabeth is pregnant.
The words echo in my mind like a curse. The baby might be mine, but it might not be. And if it isn’t mine? No, I can’t go there. It has to be mine.
I lean my head back, squeezing my eyes shut, but the darkness behind my eyelids only intensifies the guilt gnawing at my gut. She’s pregnant, and now she’s missing.
What kind of man lets this happen? What kind of man drives a woman to
