Thirty-Three
THIRTY-THREE
LUCAS
L eora never got into the car I sent and she still hasn’t shown up at home. After I got out of the shower, I texted her and told her to be here at six thirty, which she agreed to. Now it’s almost seven and I’m starting to get worried.
Me
Hey, where are you?
Is everything alright?
I pick up my phone and try to call her, but all I hear are several beeps and no answer.
Me
I can pick you up.
She hasn’t answered any of my messages yet, and it’s been almost an hour.
Me
Leora, I’m starting to get worried
Answer me!
Then I remember that she told me she would be working with Camille, so I quickly search for her contact information and press CALL.
"Hello, Monsieur Ayoub?"
I skip the pleasantries, my mind only focused on finding Leora. "Can you pass the phone to Leora, please?"
"Pardon? I’m not with Leora. I’m at home." I halt my pacing, a wave of confusion washing over me.
Okay, so she’s probably on her way back home then, but that doesn’t explain why she isn’t answering me.
"When did you two leave the office?" My voice is harsh, but I don’t care.
"About two and a half hours ago."
As the information sinks in, a knot forms in my stomach.
Leora should have been home by now.
Confusion and concern grip me, and I try to make sense of the situation. Why would she leave thirty minutes after I offered her to come with me? She told me she had a lot to do.
"Are you sure she didn't mention anything about where she was going or if something was wrong?" I ask urgently, my voice filled with worry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have pressured her to come with me tonight; she’s not ready.
Camille hesitates for a moment before responding, "No, she didn't say anything specific. She seemed a bit preoccupied, but I assumed it was work-related. I'm sorry, I don't have any more information."
My mind races, considering different possibilities. If Leora left the office around the same time I did and she hasn't made it home, something must have happened during her journey back home.
"Please let me know if you hear anything."
Camille's voice trembles slightly. "Yes, of course."
With a sense of urgency, I end the call and immediately dial Leora’s number again. This time, I’m sent straight to her voicemail.
"Hi, you have reached Leora. I can’t come to the phone right now but please ? —"
I don’t finish listening to her answering machine. Fire burns inside me, and I don’t know if it’s fear or anger that consumes me first, but in a moment of overwhelming intensity, I throw my phone against the wall. The impact shatters the screen, leaving a web of cracks in its wake.
I grab my car keys with a sense of dread and determination, and hurry out the door. What if something happened to her?
Racing to the office, panic surges through me as I frantically scale the stairs, heading straight to where I last saw her. I quickly scan the surroundings, but there's no sign of her, anxiety growing with every passing moment. I can't shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong.
Desperation sets in, and I pull out my cracked phone to call Liam, who offers to come and help me search for her. Then, I dial the police, my voice trembling as I explain the situation. They advise me to return home and wait for her, promising to inform patrolling officers to keep an eye out for her—but also informing me that until she’s been missing for twenty-four hours, they can’t do much. Which to me feels like bullshit and is infuriating, but the police remind me it's only been three hours, and that I should trust my wife. It’s absurd; I’m calling because I trust my wife, and because something feels wrong.
If anything happens to her, I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself.