SEBASTIAN’S POV
The house was eerily silent when I stepped inside. The stillness wrapped itself around me like a heavy fog, suffocating and unbearable. I had expected her to be here.
Sasha should have been here. I had driven half the night to reach this place, hoping to find her, to put an end to this game of hide-and-seek she had been playing with me.
But as I walked through the house, each room empty and void of her presence, a sinking feeling settled in my chest.
This wasn’t right.
The house was immaculate, as if untouched. No signs of her. No clothes tossed on the bed, no half-empty coffee mug on the counter, no scent of her favorite perfume lingering in the air.
It was like she had erased herself from the space entirely, leaving behind only the shell of a life she once occupied.
I ran a hand through my hair, pulling at the roots in frustration. Where the hell could she be?
“Roland!” I barked, my voice echoing through the empty halls.
He appeared in the doorway, his expression neutral but his eyes cautious, as if he could sense the storm brewing inside me.
He was good at that-reading me, knowing when to tread carefully. But right now, I don’t need to be cautious. I needed answers.
“Where is she?” I demanded, pacing back and forth in the living room.
My eyes darted toward the staircase, as if hoping she would miraculously appear at the top, looking down at me with that infuriatingly calm expression of hers.
“I don’t know, sir,” Roland replied evenly, but there was something in his tone that made me pause.
I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Roland. You’ve worked for her father long enough to know his habits. If she’s not here, where else would she go?”
He hesitated, and that hesitation was enough to confirm my suspicions. He knew something.
“Tell me,” I pressed, my voice low and dangerous.
“I don’t know, sir,” he repeated, this time more firmly. “I truly don’t. And even if I did, it’s not my place to say.”
His words were like a slap to the face, a stark reminder of just how little control I had over this situation.
I was used to being in charge, to having the answers, to solving problems with a single command. But Sasha… She was a puzzle I couldn’t piece together, a force I couldn’t contain.
“You’re useless,” I snapped, turning away from him.
The frustration bubbled up inside me, a volatile mix of anger and desperation.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed her number, pressing the device to my ear. The line rang once, twice, three times, before going to voicemail.
“Dammit!” I swore under my breath, ending the call and immediately dialing again.
The same result.
Her voicemail message played, her voice soft and melodic, but it did nothing to soothe me. If anything, it only made the ache in my chest worse.
“Pick up, Sasha,” I muttered, as if saying the words aloud would make her answer.
But she didn’t.
She never did.
I ended the call again, clenching the phone so tightly in my hand that I thought it might crack. This wasn’t the first time she had ignored my calls, but it felt different now.
It wasn’t just a petty argument or a game of cat and mouse. This was something else entirely, something deeper and more troubling.
“She’s avoiding me,” I said aloud, more to myself than to Roland.
“She might just need some space,” he offered cautiously.
“Space?” I laughed bitterly. “She’s had plenty of space. She’s had days, weeks, months of space. And look where that’s gotten us.”
I began pacing again, the motion doing little to calm the storm raging inside me. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more troubling than the last.
Was she running from me? From us? Was she with someone else? The thought made my blood boil, but I quickly pushed it aside. No, Sasha wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t like that.
But then again, how well did I really know her?
“She’s not answering my calls,” I muttered, more to myself than to Roland.
“She might be busy,” Roland suggested, though he didn’t sound convinced.
“Busy doing what?” I shot back. “Hiding from me? Avoiding me? Because that’s exactly what this feels like.”
Roland didn’t respond, and his silence only fueled my frustration.
I tried calling her again, the phone pressed tightly to my ear. The line rang and rang, but there was no answer. Again.
“Dammit, Sasha!” I growled, ending the call and tossing the phone onto the couch.
The weight of the situation pressed down on me, suffocating and unbearable. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
“She’s not taking my calls,” I said aloud, my voice tinged with desperation. “How am I supposed to find her if she won’t even talk to me?”
Roland hesitated, then said, “We could try tracking her phone.”
I froze, turning to look at him.
“And how exactly do you propose we do that?” I asked, my tone sharp.
“It’s possible,” he said carefully. “If you have access to her account, or if she’s shared her location with you at any point-”
“She hasn’t,” I interrupted. “And even if she had, she’s smart enough to turn it off if she doesn’t want to be found.”
“Then we’re at a dead end,” Roland said, his voice calm but firm.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
“Do you want me to reach out to her father?” Roland asked after a moment.
I looked up at him, my eyes narrowing.
“What good would that do?” I asked bitterly. “He’s in a coma, or did you forget?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Roland said quietly. “But he might have left something behind-something that could help us find her.”
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face.
“It’s worth a shot,” I admitted.
Roland nodded, stepping back toward the door.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said before leaving the room.
I leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
Where are you, Sasha?
The question echoed in my mind, over and over again, until it was the only thing I could think about.
I pulled out my phone again, staring at her name on the screen. My finger hovered over the call button, but I hesitated. What was the point? She wasn’t going to answer.
But I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.
So I pressed the button. The line rang once, twice, three times. Voicemail.
Again.
I ended the call, my frustration mounting. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. I wouldn’t.