It takes more than five minutes to recover my equilibrium before I handle the wheel and drive back to Venice. My head stays on the clouds the whole way, unable to understand if this is the end or not. He can't do this to me, can he? He can't possibly leave without saying anything, can he?

A thin teardrop slides off my face but I mop it away swiftly with the back of my hand. Sniffing, I continue driving through the enchanting darkness nourished with shimmering street lights and headlights from the running cars I come across.

I manage to reach home safely. My bed, my pillow, and the darkness in my room become my only comfort when the rest of the world feels cold and distant.

I'm afraid to close my eyes. It's like if the night passes I'll never hear from Liam again. Like a fool I am, I try calling him again, but nothing comes out of it. It's his voicemail and the more I hear that automated woman's voice, the more enraged I grow.

"Asshole," I murmur, holding so much anger for that damn cowboy.

***

It's been more than twelve hours now since Liam's departure from my house. If he hadn't checked out of the hotel, I would've said that something dreadful has happened to him. But I know for certain that's not the case. I can feel it. He just doesn't want to talk to me, and he probably hates me.

But when I wake up, my phone buzzes rapidly. I jump immediately with a rush of adrenaline.

Please, let it be Liam.

I grab it unceremoniously and my heart sinks right away when I find no one but Jonathan. I close my eyes for a moment, frustrated, before releasing a long breath. I watch the screen for a good while until I decide to answer with so much reluctance.

"Hi, Kira," he greets.

"What is it?" My voice is hostile and I can't help it.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asks, and I swallow hard so as to control my impulse. "Kira?" he calls again.

"Jonathan, I'm listening," I reply softly, trying hard not to take it out on him. I roll in my bed, hugging the blanket tightly as I mentally swim in disappointment.

Apparently, Jonathan has nothing else to say other than thanking me for what I did. It so appears that, thanks to my statement and the medical information about Jeremy from his psychiatry, he was able to be released under the mental instability defense.

"Well, congratulations! Is that what you want to hear from me?" I snap.

"Um, not really. I just wanted to tell you that—" He pauses, and the memories from last night makes me smother a cry that has him ask, "Kira, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not, and I don't think I ever will be! Do you know why? It's thanks to all of you!" I snap, and again tears flow down as I sit up as if I'm suddenly recharged. "Now if you're done, can I hang up? Because I have no interest in knowing anything about your family! I don't want to see your brother again! I've done what you asked me to so leave me alone!"

I want to cry my heart out, screaming out loud. But will it help?

"Okay, Kira. Okay." Jonathan says calmly. "The court has established a restraining order, so he won't come near you. I promise, I'll make sure of that as he's going to leave L.A for everyone's good."

"I hope so," I say with a pause, "because if he comes near me, I swear I won't be responsible for whatever happens. I don't care what I'll have to do to get rid of his face at my sight."

"I understand. And trust me; Jeremy will never get near you again. I know what I'm talking about," he insists, and I only sigh. "Are you okay, though? You sound a bit strange. Is it about Sam? I think she'll come around, Kira, just give her some time," he wisely let me know.

Honestly, Sam is the least of my worries at the moment, if not not at all. For all I care, she can go deep into the hell pit.

After a shower I realize I'm about to go crazy and I may need someone to talk to. I drag myself to Amelia's; she's the only one I can think of. After knocking her door about three times, it finally opens, and I feel so relieved to see the bubbly ginger poking her head out.

"Kira?" she calls gleefully until her smile fades upon seeing my disposition. "What's wrong, dear?" She swings the door wide and sprints out.

"Can I talk to you?" I ask her.

"Of course, Kira, come in," she offers.

I've never been inside her place before. A smooth scent of vanilla and butter welcomes me.My smile appears and my eyes wander. Her living room looks like a little museum of a kind. There's a chest full of antiques and relics—like an old clock and intricate wooden carvings of bald African women.

The curtains in her windows are charming beaded pendants that swing beautifully from above the panels.

A few paintings, together with a dreamcatcher on the wall of her bedroom area, pull my attention away. It's so Amelia-like. I take a seat on the brown classic sofa, covered with a crochet blanket like the way Mexicans decorate their couches.

"Your place is charming," I comment.

"Oh, please." She blushes away. "Just give me a minute, I'll go get you something to drink."

"Um . . . Amelia." I try to object.

"No, Kira! I'm sure you haven't eaten anything. And it so happens that I baked a delicious white cake this morning, with some coffee. Trust me you'll have a bigger bite." She winks.

"Sure." I nod in agreement before she disappears into her kitchen.

My mind freezes for a while, and a small relief washes over me as my attention stays on the old TV in which some soap opera seems to be aired. Two old ladies are arguing over some birth secret they swore to keep, and I don't understand who leaked it between the two.

Amelia returns and together we start having the delicious cake and coffee while I try my best to enjoy it as it deserves.

"How is it?" she asks expectantly, trying to lift my rotten mood.

"It's delicious." I manage to smile genuinely, and she warms up at the sight. Now I understand why the scent of butter bathed in the air from the moment I walked in. "You're an awesome baker. I'll have to learn a few tricks." I savor the cake, enjoying how fluffy, moist, and soft it feels in my mouth, let alone the splendid taste of fresh vanilla and all other hidden components.

"Aw, thanks. Enjoy then. You got to finish that or I'll be very mad," she urges and a laugh rumbles out of me. "And tell me what happened while at it."

"A lot happened," I say with a sigh and my appetite sinks. "A few days ago there was a commotion here. I guess you weren't around, but plenty of mishaps followed because of the incident." I tell her some details about the Jeremy fiasco and the fact that my boyfriend is now on a riot because of that.

Or it's not just a cold riot? He can't be gone for good. No, he said he wouldn't.

"Oh, honey," Amelia gasps in mild shock. "I was away in Colorado for a few days and I had no idea such a terrible thing happened to you. I only returned last night and—"

"Don't worry, Amelia." I laugh at her grand exaggeration, and for once I feel really relieved. "I just wanted to let it off my chest, because I have no idea what will happen next."

"I understand, dear, and it's a first stage for self-healing—letting things out." She smiles sheepishly.

"I don't know." I lick my fork and laugh. "I honestly feel like I'm back to square one. I think I'm all alone now, and there's nothing I can do. Maybe it's my rotten fate, right?"

"Come on, Kira, it's too early for you to say those words. It's been only one day right? Maybe something came up and he had to leave, you never know." Amelia sounds hopeful.

"Yeah. I never know." I smile bitterly.

"And yes, fate can be cruel sometimes, but you shouldn't be negative because of the trials it throws your way," Amelia says.

"Trials? Those trials are way beyond my capacity, though. Do they think I'm a wonder woman or something? Because I'm also very weak, Amelia, and I need to be understood as well! To be taken care of! But all I've been doing since I was little is handling pain alone. I can't even breathe sometimes, thinking why I'm still breathing anyway. I wish I'd have died in that accident, maybe it would've been better than living such an empty life!" I feel so frustrated inside.

"Oh, Kira, don't say such words!" Amelia frantically cries and I immediately feel her warm arms wrapping me. "This shall pass, you will see."

"I don't know. I just want to close my eyes and disappear." I wither in her embrace.

"No, dear, time will heal your scars. You'll see."

"When? Until I go old with gray hair?" I joke, and we both laugh for a change.

I want to hold onto Amelia's words. I really do. But something deep inside, like a red devil that eats people's faith and hopes, reminds me that everything was nothing but a short-lived fantasy that has come to an end.

So I try to be patient and positive.

My afternoon has gone rather better than I expected. I had a long chat with Amelia and time seemed to pass quicker than before. She is a very nice woman; a good talker, and a better listener. Now I'm back to my place, alone as I've always been.

Sighing, I peer into my phone and find absolutely nothing. Maybe you mistakenly put it in airplane mode; I can hear my subconscious making fun of me. A ridiculous laughter escapes my lips as I sit down on the couch, heavily. With all the voicemails I sent, not even a text from Liam?

A strong wave of rueful apprehension blankets my skin, feeling too afraid inside. What if I never hear from him again? What if what we had is no more? I shriek. Either way, I try calling him again, and to my surprise it rings. I quickly get up, my heart pounding out of rhythm.

He's available. A small respite washes over me.

"Please pick up, Liam. Please pick up," I mumble to myself while biting my nails like a terrified child. It rings, and rings, but no one answers.

How could he do this to me?

I'm vexed and furious. If I don't do anything about it I may collapse on the floor. I don't think I can forgive him for this. He's cruel. Exasperated, I record a very disturbing voicemail, pouring my fury into it.

"You know what, you've won! Just go away and don't ever show up in front of me! I don't ever want to see your face, you bastard! I know you were just waiting for an excuse to leave me. Is that—" I fail to go on as the sobs clog my throat. "Is that what you wanted?" My voice softens as I wail. "To get rid of me once you get tired?"

This is so hard, it hurts so much. I stay still, emptying my mind with alternate sighs. And suddenly I hear my phone chirping. I quickly take it to my palm, hoping with all my faith that it's Liam.

Oh God, it's him!

My heart beats too fast as I pick up.

"Hello." It's a woman's voice.

"Um . . . Yes?" I utter very carefully, ignoring the dread in my racing heart.

Why a woman's voice? Where's Liam?

"I'm sorry, this is Alexa Smith from St. John's Hospital, New York," she replies.

"W–what? Hospital? Why? I mean . . . why do you have Liam's phone?" I snap like a broken record, unsure what exactly I'm saying.

God, no! Please don't let anything bad happen to him.

"No, Ma'am, calm down," she says smoothly. " I believe the owner of this phone has lost or misplaced it somehow. We are going to hand it to the police if no one reclaims it by the end of the day. But since you called, maybe you can help us with the name so we can check the hospital records to see if it's someone who works or visited here recently."

Relief washes over me. So he's already in New York. He decided to leave without saying goodbye. Knowing this has made me feel so miserable inside.

"Maybe he came to visit a patient," I tell the lady on the phone. I remember Liam mentioning about a friend who's hospitalized. "His name is Liam Darcy. You can check your records."

"Okay, that can be helpful."

"Alright. Please let me know if you fail to reach him," I say.

As the call ends I sink down on the couch and sigh. He simply left and didn't even care about how I'd feel regarding that. I can't ignore the ache. But he's fine, right? I'll give him the space he wants. And if he wants to end it for good, will I give in to that as well?