Waiting and Worrying
Adrian slammed the door behind him as he stepped into the house, his pulse pounding in his ears.
The weight of the argument with Celeste was like a crushing weight on his chest, suffocating him with every breath he took.
He hadn't meant to hurt her—not like this.
He hadn't meant for things to spiral out of control the way they had.
Yet here he was, standing in the quiet of their home, feeling like everything he'd built with her was crumbling into dust.
"Celeste?" His voice cracked, shaky with uncertainty. The silence that followed felt deafening, suffocating, like a heavy blanket smothering him. He called again, louder this time, almost pleading. "Celeste?"
Nothing.
Panic crawled under his skin as he moved through the house.
He tried to tell himself that she was just cooling off, that she needed space to think, but the doubt gnawed at him.
He had seen the fire in her eyes earlier, the fury and betrayal as she slapped him, telling him she couldn't live with him anymore.
The sting of her words had left marks deeper than anything physical.
"I don't want you anymore, Adrian.
" The words echoed in his mind, over and over.
Adrian's heart dropped as he ran up the stairs to their bedroom, each step heavier than the last. He flung the door open, desperate for some sign that Celeste hadn't really gone, hadn't really meant it.
But as his eyes scanned the room—her things, her clothes, the familiar traces of her presence—he froze.
Nothing was missing. Her things were still here. She hadn't left... yet.
Adrian's breath rushed out of him in relief, but it was only fleeting. The thought that she might leave him completely—maybe she already had, maybe she was already out there finding a new place to live—sent a surge of fear through him. His gut twisted painfully, a constant ache deep in his core.
Had I really pushed her to this point? Was there no way back?
He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his mind spiraling. How had things gotten so bad? What had started as a disagreement had turned into something far worse—something he wasn't sure he could fix. Could he? Could he really make things right? Did she even want him to try?
As the hours passed, Adrian sat in the silence, trying to steady his breath, trying to quell the storm of regret and fear that was threatening to overwhelm him. His phone sat on the table, mocking him. He reached for it again, his thumb hovering over the call button. But no.
No more calls. Not until she was ready.
Time dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He tried calling her again, only to have it go straight to voicemail. His hand gripped the phone so tightly, his knuckles turned white, but it didn't make a difference. She wasn't answering. She didn't want to talk to him.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting and pacing, he reached out to Mia. Maybe she knew where Celeste had gone. Maybe she could help him fix this—help him fix their marriage. But when Mia answered, her tone was sharp, almost accusatory.
"Mia, have you heard from Celeste? She's not answering my calls," Adrian asked, his voice cracking, his desperation clear.
Mia was silent for a moment. "Adrian, I'm in another country, remember? I haven't heard from her today. And if you did something—"
"I didn't do anything!" he snapped, the anger and frustration bubbling over before he could control it. But then, just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, the weight of his own guilt crashing down on him. "I'm sorry, Mia. I'm just... worried."
There was a brief pause before Mia responded, her voice softening just a touch. "I don't know where she is, Adrian. But I'm not here to babysit. If you did something to hurt her again—"
Adrian couldn't take it anymore. With one last, frustrated sigh, he ended the call, his hand trembling as he let the phone drop onto the couch beside him. He couldn't focus on Mia's judgment. Not now.
He had to focus on Celeste.
He would wait for her. He had to.
Hours ticked by, and still, no sign of her. Adrian's anxiety grew with every minute, his thoughts racing with all the possibilities of where she could be. Where was she? Was she really leaving him? The pain of not knowing was almost unbearable.
Finally, just as he thought he might lose his mind, his phone buzzed. It was a call from Ethan.
Adrian hesitated for only a second before answering, but his heart nearly stopped when he heard Ethan's voice on the other end.
"Adrian, it's Celeste. She's at The Velvet Room. She's drunk, and she's crying. I can't leave, I'm in a meeting with my brother. You need to pick her up."
Adrian's pulse skyrocketed. The Velvet Room? That high-end bar downtown? It was a place she used to asked him to come with her to enjoy a few drinks. And now Celeste was there—alone, broken, in the last place he ever expected.
Adrian gripped the phone tighter, his voice tight with urgency. "I'm on my way."
Without another word, he dropped the phone, snatched his jacket, and bolted out the door. His mind raced, terror mixing with his every thought. Celeste—his Celeste—was out there, and he was running out of time.
But as he sped through the night, he couldn't help but wonder: What if I was too late? What if everything had already fallen apart beyond repair?