Page 4 of Say You're Mine

June is gone.

The thought pierces through me like a white-hot blade, stealing the breath from my lungs. I curl in on myself, fingers clutching at the sheets where his warmth should be. But there's only coldness, a hollow emptiness that mirrors the aching void in my chest.

How could he just vanish like this? How could he leave me behind, lost and drowning in the wreckage of his obsessive devotion?

Bitter tears sting my eyes, blurring the edges of our bedroom - the bedroom that feels like a mausoleum now, a shrine to everything we once shared. Fragments of memories assault me, each one a twisted knife in my gut.

The way his eyes would darken with hunger as he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. The reverent brush of his fingertips against my skin, igniting sparks of desire that threatened to consume me whole. The heat of his breath against my ear as he whispered promises of forever, of a love that would burn brighter than the stars themselves.

Lies. All of it, lies.

A sob wrenches free from my throat, I'm utterly broken. I press my face into the navy blue hoodie he left behind, breathing in the fading scent of him - sandalwood and spice, a hint of something darker, more primal.

God, how I crave him.

Even now, even after everything, my body aches for his touch, for the searing bliss of his possession. It's a sickness, this need, an addiction I can't seem to shake.

But he's gone. Vanished into the ether like smoke on the wind, leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart.

I drag myself from the bed, limbs heavy with exhaustion and despair. The wooden floorboards are cold beneath my bare feet as I pad into the bathroom, flicking on the harsh overhead light. It bathes the room in a sickly glow, casting deep shadows beneath my eyes, highlighting the pallor of my skin.

I look like a ghost, a pale imitation of the woman I once was. The woman who believed in love, in the power of two souls entwined as one.

My gaze falls to my stomach, still flat beneath the thin fabric of my nightgown. But there's a secret hidden there, a tiny spark of life that changes everything.

Pregnant. I'm pregnant with June's child.

The revelation hits me anew, stealing the strength from my legs. I grip the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as I fight against the rising tide of panic.

How can I do this without him? How can I bring a child into this world, into the mess we've made of our lives? The thought is terrifying, a yawning abyss of uncertainty and fear.

But beneath the terror, there's something else - a flicker of hope, fragile and tentative. This baby, this precious little life growing inside me...it's a part of him. A piece of the man I love, the man I've always loved, even when I was too stubborn, too afraid to admit it.

And suddenly, with a clarity that steals my breath, I know what I have to do.

I have to find him. I have to tell him about our child, about the family we could be. I have to make him see that we belong together, that our love is something rare and precious, worth fighting for.

Even if it means facing the demons of our past. Even if it means tearing down the walls I've so carefully constructed around my heart.

I straighten, meeting my own gaze in the mirror. There's a new look burning in my eyes, a fierce resolve that sets my blood aflame.

I will find him. I will bring him home. And together, we will build a life, a future, a love that nothing can destroy.

My hand drifts to my stomach, cradling the tiny spark of hope hidden within. "We're going to be okay, little one," I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. "Your daddy and I, we're going to make this right. I promise."

But first, I need answers. I need to know what happened, where he went, who took him from me.

And I know just where to start.

I dress quickly, fingers trembling as I pull on jeans and a sweater. The fabric feels strange against my skin, too rough, too constricting. But I push through the discomfort, fueled by the fire in my veins.

I'm out the door before the sun has fully risen, the crisp morning air stinging my cheeks. The city is just beginning to wake, sleepy and slow, but I move with purpose, my strides long and determined.

I flag down a cab, sliding into the back seat with a murmured destination. The driver meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, his gaze curious, but he says nothing as we pull away from the curb.

The streets blur past, gray concrete and neon signs. But I barely see them, my mind consumed with thoughts of June, of the secrets he kept hidden, even from me.

I think of the scars that mar his skin, the shadows that haunt his eyes when he thinks I'm not looking. The way he flinches at unexpected touches, the nightmares that leave him shaking and gasping in the dark the last time I saw him.

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