"Ems, I'm home!" I called out as I let the front door slam behind me. I didn't expect her to answer.

Instead I tossed my keys in the nearby bowl and sorted through the days mail. Bills and invoices mainly. A few social invitations, all of which I set aside in a pile to pass off to Cynthia to politely decline.

"I was thinking Chinese tonight," I announced to the quiet apartment. "Are you hungry?"

No would be the answer. Well, the answer would the be silence but the meaning would be no. Emma hardly ate these days... or drank water... or did anything remotely close to living.

When she did it was mostly because I forced her, not that she put up much of a fight. Every couple of days I would carry her into the bath and wash her. I insisted she drink a glass of water before I left for work and when I got home, though she rarely finished it.

Food was the biggest challenge.

At first I naively took it as a good sign, a sign that there was still some spark in there of the fighter she used to be. But it wasn't fight. It was fatigue. Extreme fatigue, which the Internet informed me was a symptom of depression.

Not only could Emma not find the energy to get out of bed or to bathe, she couldn't find it even to chew.

I switched tactics from pushing solid foods on her to liquids—soups, curries, smoothies were her main staple now. And while it was something, it wasn't enough to stop her from losing weight.

In the last week, I started sneaking protein powder into them in hopes it might help. I worried the chalky texture and flavor might put her off, but it didn't. That's when I realized she didn't taste anything.

She'd become... numb. To everything.

Including me.

I bloody lost it then. I'd never tell a soul but I cried for near an hour in the shower. When I came out completely pruned and with swollen eyes, she didn't so much as blink at me.

I grabbed a clean glass from the cupboard and filled it near the rim with water from the pitcher. As I did, I steeled myself with a deep breath and glanced up at the bedroom door.

Water trickled down my fingers as it poured over the rim.

The door was open.

I blinked several times, expecting my vision the clear and reveal it to be an illusion. A trick of the imagination.

But it wasn't. The door was slightly ajar and behind was the soft glow of a light.

I nearly dropped the glass and the pitcher both in the sink. I stared at the door another minute before slowly making my way across the living room.

With each step the tightness in my chest eased slightly. "E-Ems?"

I pushed the door open to reveal a pristine bedroom. The bed was shockingly empty and—doubly shockingly—neatly made with hospital corners and all.

A laugh burst from my mouth, which I quickly clamped with a hand. "Emma, love, you here?"

The glow of the light I'd seen had come from the bathroom. I followed it and felt my brow furrow at the sight of everything in its place. Everything but Emma.

I think I knew then. Even before I walked back into the bedroom, before I glanced her ring perched on my pillow. Before I thrust each of her drawers open, I knew they'd be empty. I stared a long moment at the closet, full of my work clothes and the dresses I had bought her for various events.

In an instant I was back in the entryway, emptying the contents of my bag to find my phone.

"Please," I prayed as I pressed it up against my ear. "Please, love. Please."

"Hello!" her chipper voice answered, "You've reached Emma Henderson. Unfortunately, I'm unable to take your call at the moment but if you leave your name and—"

"Fuck!" I fought every urge not to smash my phone and instead made a second call.

"Do you know where she is?" I demanded before I even heard his greeting.

Toni hesitated, no doubt assessing the panic in my voice. "Ms. Henderson?"

"Yes!" I bellowed.

"She isn't there?"

My panic morphed into full rage as I heard the echoes of clacking computer keys in the background. "If she was here I wouldn't be—"

I stopped speaking when I heard Toni suddenly murmuring over radio.

The rage instantly dissipated as pure fear crawled over me. "W-What is it?"

"She never signed out of the building, sir."

I shook my head. "I-I don't understand. How is that possible?"

"I'm coordinating with the video monitoring service now, sir."

"But no one can open any of the doors without the passcode. If she left, she'd had to use her security code."

"Correct, sir."

I clutched at my chest as I felt my heart begin to beat like a racehorse. My feet began moving on their own accord as I paced impatiently waiting for an update.

What if she hadn't left on her own accord? What if someone had taken her? She couldn't have fought them off, not in her state. She was home all alone-—defenseless—and I had been the one left her there.

My feet stopped suddenly at the foot of the bed.

The ring.

The hospital corners.

"The cleaners."

"Sir?"

I practically collapsed on to the bed in relief. "The cleaners came today. She left with the cleaners."

Toni waited a beat before responding. I could almost hear his nod. "Confirmed, sir. She's on the south security camera leaving with the cleaning crew. Time stamped 3:23pm."

"She'll be on her way to Kerry."

The sense of relief churned with renewed dread.

Back to Kerry. Gone—

Safe. I forced myself to be reasonable. Safe at home with her mother.

"Negative, sir."

This time my heart didn't race. I swear it didn't even beat.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"Ms. Henderson isn't in Kerry. I've got her phone's data right here and it looks like the device was last pinged in... Manchester?"

I stared unseeing at the ceiling.

For weeks I had begged her to get out of bed, eat anything, take a bloody sip of water but she couldn't. Not for me. But for him—

For him she'd gotten up. She'd packed up her things and caught a bloody train.

I know it wasn't fair of me, but all I could think in that moment was that she'd left... for him.

"Sir, I've got the ground team on standby. Shall we deploy?"

The hand holding my phone fell to my knee as I struggled to take a few steadying breaths. Admittedly, it took a while, but finally I managed to raise it back up. "No, call it off."

"Are you sure?"

"I said call it off," I growled.

"Copy—"

My phone shot across the room and shattered a crystal vase. Blush pink peonies—Emma's favorite—cascaded to the ground and fell in heap on the fresh bed of shattered crystal.