Page 73 of All The Pretty Little Lies

“How long will they be gone?"

“As long as it takes.”

I nod, trying to process this information. Logically, I know Zaire being away is the right thing. They need to be there to track down the doctor, to uncover the truth about what happened to those embryos, my embryos. But a part of me, a selfish, needy part, hates that he's so far away. I miss his presence, his warmth, the way his lips quirk up in that half-smile when he catches me looking at him.

Oscar seems to sense my inner turmoil. He releases my hand and moves to the nightstand, retrieving something from the drawer. When he turns back to me, I see he's holding a sleek, new smartphone.

"This is for you," he says, placing it in my palm. The device feels foreign and heavy in my hand, a tangible reminder of how much my life has changed. "Our numbers are alreadyprogrammed into it. Zaire has this number. He'll reach out when he can."

I run my thumb over the smooth screen, a lump forming in my throat. It's a lifeline, a connection to the men who have become my world. I clutch it to my chest as if I could somehow hold them closer through this small piece of technology.

"Thank you," I whisper, looking up at Oscar. His blue eyes are soft with understanding, and I'm struck again by how much I've come to rely on him, on both of them.

The sunlight streaming through the window catches on Oscar's hair, turning it to burnished gold. It reminds me of lazy Sunday mornings and stolen kisses, of safety and warmth. I want to lose myself in that feeling, to forget about the complications and dangers that lurk just beyond these walls.

But I can't. Not when part of me is missing, not when Zaire is out there, putting himself at risk for my sake. Not when there are so many unanswered questions about those embryos, my potential children.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the lingering scent of Oscar's cologne mixed with the fresh, clean smell of his recently showered skin. It grounds me and reminds me that I'm not alone in this.

"He'll be okay," Oscar says, as if reading my thoughts. "Z's resourceful, and he's got Alex watching his back."

I nod, trying to convince myself as much as to acknowledge his words. "I know. I just...I wish he was here. Both of them."

Oscar wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I lean into him, drawing strength from his solid presence. "We'll get through this together," he murmurs into my hair. "All of us."

I nod, managing a small smile as I look up at Oscar. His eyes, those piercing blue orbs that seem to see right through me, are filled with warmth and understanding. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before pulling back slightly.

"How about some breakfast?" he suggests, his voice gentle. "I make a mean omelet."

The thought of food makes my stomach growl, reminding me that I haven't eaten since yesterday. "That sounds perfect," I reply, grateful for the distraction.

Oscar stands, offering me his hand. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. The soft carpet gives way to cool hardwood as we make our way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. The house is quiet, our footsteps and the distant chirping of birds outside the only sounds breaking the morning stillness.

As we enter the kitchen, sunlight streams through the large windows, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. The polished granite countertops gleam and the stainless steel appliances reflect the light, creating a dazzling display. Oscar moves with practiced ease, pulling ingredients from the fridge and gathering utensils.

I perch on one of the high stools at the kitchen island, watching as he cracks eggs into a bowl with one hand, his movements fluid and confident. The sharp tap of eggshell against the bowl's rim punctuates the peaceful morning air.

Suddenly, a soft 'ding' breaks through the quiet. My heart leaps as I realize it's coming from the new phone Oscar gave me. With slightly trembling fingers, I pull it from my pocket, swiping to unlock the screen.

A text message pops up, and my breath catches in my throat as I read the words:

Missing you, my queen.

It's from Zaire. Four simple words, but they send a rush of warmth through my entire body. I can almost hear his voice, low and husky, whispering them in my ear. A smile spreads acrossmy face, wide and genuine, the first real one since I woke up this morning.

Oscar glances over from where he's whisking the eggs, a knowing look in his eyes. "Let me guess," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Z?"

I nod, unable to wipe the grin from my face. "He says he misses me."

Oscar's lips quirk up in a half-smile, his eyes softening. "Of course he does. You're impossible not to miss, Vesper."

ZAIRE

I leanagainst the cold brick wall, my eyes fixed on the entrance of the fertility clinic across the street. The New York air is crisp, biting at my exposed skin, but I barely notice. My mind is consumed with thoughts of Vesper and the bombshell we uncovered days ago.

Her embryos. Stored here, in this nondescript building. The knowledge burns in my chest, a mix of anger and protective instinct that threatens to overwhelm me. I clench my fists, willing myself to stay put, to stick to the plan.

Alex shifts beside me, his presence a steady reminder of our purpose. We've been here for days, watching, waiting. The doctor we've been hunting - this elusive Dr. Ivanov - remains a ghost. Every lead we've followed has led to a dead end, each clue dissolving like smoke through our fingers. He’s glued to his phone, scrolling through the screen at a rapid pace.

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