She woke up alone, not a trace of her husband’s whereabouts. Touching his side of the bed, it felt cold. But the crease on his pillows told her that she didn’t just imagine him last night. He was not just a wild dream.

Nonetheless, he was missing.

"Oliver." She called on the empty hallway as she turned left and right.

However, only echoes of her own voice greeted her back as she continued to holler his name.

Tiptoeing around the unfamiliar apartment, she found herself drawn again to the living room.

Of course, she remembered the painting that hung above the fireplace and the animal figurines that were on full display. She vividly recalled how she had accidentally acquired that painting.

Truthfully, it was barely a masterpiece, but more like junk. But she stopped Oliver before he threw it away with the trash.

Somehow, that painting caught her eye, not because of its masterful strokes, but more of its sentimental value. It was the first thing that they bought together, although they intended to buy something else.

Eventually, it became their private joke. "It will be something we will be telling our kids when they grow up." She had once told him as they stared at the plain painting.

The tale of their love affair.

Although the fairy tale didn’t end with a happily ever after.

The princess wasn’t able to attend the ball.

The knight in shining armor failed to save the princess.

"Yeah, what a tragic love story?" She sighed with disappointment as she held the two figurines in her hand.

Still, she was surprised to see those items again. After all these years, she assumed he had thrown away everything that was connected to her, even burned them to ashes.

So—

"Why did you keep it?" She mumbled, puzzled, confused, and completely baffled.

Was it a token of their love or her so-called betrayal?

Suddenly, his face flashed before her eyes, reminding her of the anger that was oozing out of him when he accused her of accepting his father’s bribe in exchange for their child.

Reminiscing about his accusatory tone once again brought back the pain of losing her parents and her baby.

As if burnt, she put the figurines back and turned away.

There was no use in dwelling on his reasons since she doubted whether she would know the answer to her questions.

Moving on, she strode to the kitchen to prepare some coffee.

On the kitchen counter, she found a note.

It was Oliver’s handwriting. She easily recognized those barely readable scribbles on the piece of paper.

Her fingers unconsciously traced the lines, remembering how many times he had written her short notes, reminding her not to skip meals or take some rest when he was not around.

S...

GONE OUT FOR A WHILE. BE BACK WITH COFFEE AND BREAKFAST.

O...

Still, the same style. Short and crisp. But the recipient used to be A, not S.

Putting down the note, she surmised that making coffee was out of the question as she scanned the clean, sparkling kitchen counter. From the look of it, she could safely assume that no one had used this room since it was built.

Checking the cabinets, it appeared that it had everything she needed to cook something.

However, when she inspected the fridge, it had barely anything inside. Except for some bottled water, energy drinks, and beer, it was empty.

Of course, she didn’t count the leftover pizza that must have been sitting in there for days. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"Ewww..." She scrunched her nose when she picked up the rotting food and threw it in the trash.

In the end, she settled for water and returned to exploring the apartment, remembering that Oliver showed her a gym somewhere.

Opening the first door on her right, it was not the exercise room that she found. Instead, it was a spare bedroom, probably for a guest.

She went to the next room, but before she could open it, she noticed the door at the far end. "That’s my private office." Oliver pointed, but never bothered to show her.

Spontaneously, unmindful of the danger, her feet dragged her to the forbidden room. Expecting it to be locked, she was stunned when the doorknob turned, and the door creaked open.

Slowly, she peeked inside, both curious and intrigued. Was this just another one of his offices? Or would she finally uncover the secret that he was hiding from the world?

"If I’m Oliver, where would I hide those important papers?" She asked herself, putting herself in her husband’s shoes.

As she stepped inside, she immediately moved to the table, skimming through the folders that were on plain view. But as expected, she found nothing incriminating her husband in any illegal activities.

Next, she went through his cabinets. "Damn, how would I be able to sort through all of these?" Her eyes bulged at the thick folders that lined the shelves while glancing at her watch.

The note said, "Be back in a while." How long was that? For all she knew, her husband might be in the elevator, on his way up. But still, she didn’t want to give up just yet.

She checked a few files before she decided that she would not find anything there.

Lastly, she fired up his computer. But it was locked. "What’s the password?" She searched her brain frantically. Then, she tried several possible dates, birthdays, anniversaries, anything she could remember, but nothing worked.

For some reason, the date of the accident entered her mind. Without thinking, she punched the numbers on the keyboard. Then, the screen opened to the desktop.

Shocked!

For that fraction of a minute, she just stared at the picture in front of her, eyes wide, not even blinking.

"What does this mean?" She was dumbfounded, as her mind failed to function, leaving her confused.

On the screen was a picture of the two of them. Smiling. It was a time when their relationship still felt like a fairy tale.

Suddenly, she could not help but wonder why this apartment felt like a tomb of their past memories. It was a place where he buried everything that reminded him of her.

"What is this place?" She wondered as her eyes roamed around the room. It looked slightly different from the other rooms. Somehow, she felt she saw traces of herself in the decorations.

Just like the red roses on the corner of the window. It was dry, but she remembered she loved to put fresh flowers in the room. Then, the blanket on the small couch. She usually placed one on the armrest just in case he suddenly fell asleep while working on a chilly night.

Somewhat, his office reminded her of those times that they had lived together. It was as if he were reliving their past in this private space.

Come to think of it, she never saw anything that would indicate that Hazel had even set foot in this place. Nor did Caleb or any of his family.

"Then, why did you bring me here?" She asked the man who was quietly smiling at her. Unfortunately, she got no answer.

Quickly, she blinked a couple of times. She even slapped herself several times to snap herself back into the present.

If she wanted an answer, she should look for it. She had to find the proof that he had something to do with their accident six years ago.

If she did, she would make him pay.

But if she could prove his innocence, then she could finally forgive him.

Then, maybe she could start to trust him again. And perhaps, she could live with a happy ending.

"What the heck!"

The more she dug into the folders, the more she found herself asking more questions than finding answers.

More compilations of pictures of them flooded the screen.

When she opened his email, the first thing she read was the latest report of an investigator. "Still no news of Amelia Clarke’s whereabouts."

It was dated yesterday.

It meant he had not stopped looking for her. Until now, he had been searching for her.

Why?

Maybe the answer was still somewhere in those unopened files.

However, before she could open another message, she heard a noise outside the room.

Was he back, or did she just imagine it?

Straining her ears toward the door, heart beating wildly inside her chest, she tried to listen.

Click! Clack! Click!

Footsteps.

"Oh, shit!" She scrambled out of the chair and started shutting down the computer as the footsteps became louder and sounded closer.

Her heart almost stopped when the doorknob suddenly turned. Her body froze. Her eyes fixated on the closed door.

For a split second, she felt like a child who had just been caught with her hand stuck on a cookie jar.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She repeatedly chanted in her mind as she waited for the door to open for what felt like an eternity.

Then, it opened.

But the man behind the door was not her husband.

"What are you doing here?" His eyes gazed at her as if he had just caught a thief, red-handed.