When I picked up Chloe and left for whichever destination she had chosen, we were half an hour late than our decided time. Because apparently, she had nothing to wear.

I was not going to argue over that topic.

“Where are we going?” I asked, as the GPS suggested a right turn, and I turned the corner. The night was dark and foggy but that did little to nothing for the Vancouver traffic.

“There’s a new bar somewhere around the corner. My friend said it was shut down years ago, but they recently reestablished it. I want to see it.” Chloe said, eyes focused outside the window. There was no excitement in her voice, how ever closely I strained my ears.

If it wasn’t obvious already, Chloe was the highly outgoing sibling among the three of us. So, whenever she talked about a new place she hoped to visit, or a new collection her favorite brand launched or a new friend she made at her friend's birthday party, there was this sparkling excitement brimming in her eyes.

Her eyes were blank tonight.

We drove in silence, and my mind wandered off to somewhere far away, straying to the past and recollecting memories I probably should have left at home. Maybe barking at Michael was not exactly the right thing to do. And now that I saw Chloe, it was all a little too hard for her. Harder than I thought.

“Are you mad?” Her voice hardly reached my ears over the wind gusting through the window.

I tried to ignore the sting that punctured at my heart. “No.”

I did not have to ask her what, I knew.

“It was my fault. He had nothing to do with what happened.”

My grip slightly tightened on the stirring wheel. She was still trying to cover up for him. And as much as I tried to bite down the words, they came out anyways. “He had nothing to do with that? I thought he was the one who kissed you.”

Through the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe’s head whip into my direction. “Did you talk to him?”

I nodded, trying to keep the stirring bitter words under my tongue. She didn’t have to know what conversation passed between me and Michael. And as I guessed, Chloe didn’t ask any further questions.

When we reached our destination, it was a quiet and less crowded part of the city. Surprisingly. The club was bright and shimmering with star shaped string lights suspended from the porch ceiling. Vaguely, a similar picture blurred into my mind, bleeding into my subconscious, and scattered my thoughts.

Have I come here before?

“Looks exotic.” I shook my head, clearing off the thought, as Chloe’s voice drew me back to the present. She took off her jacket as I parked outside the club. She was wearing a wine colored, body-con dress, looking as beautiful and elegant as ever.

Me, on the other hand, in a pair of black jeans and oversized checked shirt, look nothing as close to elegant. I had tucked the shirt in and rolled up the sleeves, hoping to look at least close to an age of clubbing. But I doubted it had done any difference.

“Is 32 too old to go clubbing?” I furrowed my brows, suddenly feeling self-conscious of my choice of outfit. I should have called and asked Niall for help, or at least let Chloe choose my outfit.

Chloe looked over at me, and chuckled.

God, I missed that sound.

I liked how my self-deprecating jokes made people laugh. And I was a psychiatrist. Well, the irony didn’t end on me.

Chloe reached over and undid two of the top buttons of my shirt, other than the already two undone, opening it down to the mid of my stomach.

“You’re never too old for anything, unless you’re dead.” She patted my shoulder to draw my attention, and I stopped looking down and wondering why I needed to even keep the two buttons on, when practically, the shirt wasn’t covering much. I could just go shirtless. Is that a thing nowadays? “Don’t fret. You got a way too gorgeous face for anyone to check out what you’re wearing. You look good even if you’re wearing rags.”

I scrunched up my face. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.” I said, as we stepped out of the car, and almost immediately, the hair at my nape stood up in attention. It was too chilly.

Or maybe I was too underdressed.

“Of course it is. You may or may not have to punch anyone tonight, but I will have to watch out so no bitches hit on you.”

I feigned being offended by her comment. “Why is that? I am single now, just for the records.”

She shot me a knowing glance, and shook her head disapprovingly, holding onto my arms to climb the steps to the club. “I’m not taking any chances. You have terrible taste in women.”

I bit my lip, laughing quietly at her offending sense of humor, when my phone went off. We stopped at the entrance and Chloe rolled her eyes when I made no attempts to attend the call.

“Take it, one of your psycho friends might be missing you.”

My lips pressed into a straight line at the comment, and I took out the phone, with a sigh. I held up a finger at Chloe, begging her to spare me a minute as I walked back a few steps and attended the call.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Cole, I am sorry for disturbing you at this hour.”

“Mrs. Kennedy, let’s set the formalities aside. If you called at this hour, there must be something urgent. What is it?” I looked over at Chloe and her phone was pressed to her ear. My brows furrowed.

Is she talking to him?

“Actually, it’s Bob. He had a stroke. Again. The neurologist is out in London for a surgery. I might have to catch an urgent flight tonight.” She sighed, and I quickly spoke up, before she could bombard me with more apologies.

“Mrs. Kennedy,” I tuned my voice into a reassuring tone. “I hope you realize your No.1 priority right now, should be your husband, not my clinic. I can manage pretty well on my own...I guess.” I let out a confused chuckle, because I didn’t really know if I could manage on my own.

There was a pause. “Thank you, Ian...” She sniffled from the other side, and I couldn’t tell if she was sad for herself or me.

“Take care, Mrs. Kennedy.” I said, and she murmured some more apologies before hanging up.

I sighed at the phone. I didn’t even know where the appointment files were in the office, and I just assured her that I would manage for however long she'd be gons. But I sincerely hoped Bob recovered soon. The sooner he got well, the sooner Mrs. Kennedy shall return to my rescue. I didn’t know with her gone, who would stop those hungry looking maidens from barging into my office.

When I mentally contemplated the possibilities of that happening, and turned around, something popped...no, something dropped from above. I stilled in my track, flinching slightly at the sudden plummet. The black piece of wood was hardly visible in the dark, until I stooped down and took a closer look.

It was a shoe. A... black glossy stiletto.

“What are you doing?” Chloe called, still standing at the door, as I picked up the shoe. Where in the heaven did this fall from?

Perhaps from the heaven?

What a broken sense of humor, Cole. I snorted.

“Hold on!” I turned around, and around, scanning the empty streets and parking lot with narrowed eyes.

Someone threw a freaking shoe at me and I hadn't even opened my mouth to speak yet.

“I’m going on in. It’s too cold out here.” Chloe said, and didn’t wait for a response, rushing in through the sliding glass doors. I clicked my tongue at her impatience and stared down at the shoe in my hands. It glistened in the dark, as my finger brushed the edge around its front. Where did this Cinderella’s shoe come from?

Why would someone throw their footwear on the road? But there was no one around. Maybe no one threw it.

Maybe it...

Blinking confusedly, my head tilted up, eyes running up the length of the six-storied building.

...fell.

Right at the top, dangling from the edge of the terrace ledge, were what seemed like two feet, one with shoe, the other bare. Swaying back and forth lazily.

Who is that?

My eyes slightly widened when the lady pushed off the ledge, trying to stand up on it. A tangled mess of feet and arms, shuffling unsteadily.

If she fell, she’d definitely fall to her death.

“Hey!” I cupped the sides of my mouth in a circle, and shouted. It was probably too high for my voice to reach. She didn’t hear me, or maybe just ignored me. Unsure, I tried again. “Hey! What are you doing up there?”

She halted, arms freezing mid-air, and one leg set on the edge, the other out of my view. Slowly, a head poked out and peeked down at me. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus on her face. Her hair was all over her face, not allowing me a proper look.

I carefully raised my hands, one of them holding her shoe. “Listen to me. You don't have to do this. Whatever it is, we can talk about it, okay?” I raised my voice, trying to sound as calm at the same time.

Her head swayed up and down as if she was agreeing, and then said something, her voice muffled against the wind, too low to drop down to my ears. She was definitely drunk.

“Listen to me, alright? You can talk to me." I said again. "You...” I trailed off, as she reached up and brushed her hair behind her ears, the light from a stray street lamp casting uneven shadows on her face.

My words got sucked back, and my breath hitched in my throat as she flashed me a smile; a drunk version of a smile I was well acquainted to. Then she raised a hand, and waved at me.

“How you doin’ Doc?” she yelled down.

“Maeve...” I mumbled, still a little too shocked to respond to her warm greeting or to the sight of her swinging over the ledge. But before I could reassemble my senses or utter another word, she leaned forward on the edge, and stumbled, letting out a scream that tore through the night’s silence and the gusting wind.

“Maeve! No!”