The afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the Lyle living room, casting faint golden patterns over the old photographs on the mantelpiece. Mrs. Lyle sat quietly on the edge of the sofa, her hands tightly clasped over a worn handkerchief. Her eyes had long lost their calm shine, now dulled by weeks of worry that crept into her heart each passing day.
"She's never been gone this long without calling," she whispered, almost to herself. "Not even a text, not even a hello. Four months, Adonis. Four."
Adonis sat beside her, elbows on his knees, gaze lowered to the floor as if searching for an answer hidden in the rug. His jaw was tense, and though his voice was gentle, there was strain in it when he finally spoke.
"She said it was work. A good opportunity… maybe she just got too busy."
Mrs. Lyle shook her head. "Ana would never go this long without checking in. Something's wrong. I feel it."
Adonis hesitated, then turned to her with forced calm. "She's smart. Strong. You raised her that way. If anything was truly wrong, she'd find a way to let us know."
Though his words were meant to comfort, they rang hollow to his own ears. He was just as worried, maybe more. His gut had been uneasy since the third week without hearing from her, and now, after four long months, that unease had hardened into a silent dread.
When Mrs. Lyle finally dozed off on the couch, Adonis grabbed his jacket and headed out. He knew who he needed to see.
The university campus buzzed with laughter and chatter as students made their way between lectures and the late-afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon. Adonis moved through the crowds with single-minded purpose, ignoring the curious stares he attracted as he made his way toward the dormitories.
He found her behind the library, sipping iced coffee with a few friends. Sandra's smile faded the moment she saw him approaching.
"Adonis?" she stood slowly, confused and cautious. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," he said, voice low but firm.
She glanced at her friends, who gave her questioning looks. "Give us a minute," she murmured.
They moved to a quiet bench beneath the shade of a wide tree, where the rustling leaves offered them privacy.
"Is this about Ana?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"You know it is." Adonis's expression was unreadable. "Where is she, Sandra?"
"I don't know," she said quickly.
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," she said, but her gaze flickered.
Adonis narrowed his eyes. "You were the last person she spoke to before she disappeared. You know something. Did someone hurt her? Is she in trouble?"
Sandra remained silent for a moment, then looked him square in the eyes. "Even if I knew where she was, I wouldn't tell you."
Adonis stepped forward, frustration rising. "Her mother is losing sleep, barely eating. We're all scared, Sandra. If you care about Ana at all, you'd tell me where she is."
Her jaw tightened. "I do care. That's why I'm not saying anything. Ana made her choice. She had her reasons. I won't betray her trust."
"Even if she's in danger?"
"She's not," Sandra said firmly, though her voice wavered ever so slightly. "She's where she wants to be."
Adonis stared at her for a long moment. Then, with a resigned exhale, he nodded slowly.
"Fine. But if anything happens to her, and I find out you could've prevented it…"
Sandra didn't flinch. "I'll take that responsibility."
Without another word, Adonis turned and walked away, the weight of uncertainty heavier on his shoulders than ever before.
The soft knock on her door startled Ana from her thoughts. She stood from the window where she'd been watching the evening light settle gently over the estate. Before she could reach the handle, the door creaked open and there he was.
Harry.
He stood tall in the doorway, dressed in his usual dark suit, the faint scent of cologne and city clinging to him. In his hand, he held a bouquet of crimson roses, their petals fresh and vibrant.
"For you," he said simply, holding them out.
Ana's eyes lit up with surprise and delight. She took the flowers carefully, as if they might vanish, bringing them close to breathe in their scent.
"They're beautiful," she murmured, unable to hide her smile.
Harry only nodded, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He loosened his tie, tossed his suit jacket over the back of a chair, and gave her a long look before settling beside her on the couch.
"I brought ice cream," he said, lifting a small tub from the bag he had brought in with him. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but his eyes watched her closely.
Ana laughed softly. "You remembered." Before he left for work in the morning, she had jokingly asked him to come every watch a movie with her when he returns. Who knew he'd really taken ger words seriously and even brought her ice cream. Ana's heart fluttered.
"I'm not that forgetful."
They sat side by side, the soft glow of the lamp washing them in gold. Ana selected a romantic comedy from her favorites, and the screen flickered to life, filling the room with warmth and laughter. As the film played, Harry dipped the spoon into the ice cream and lifted it to her lips.
"Open," he said.
She did, tasting the sweet vanilla, smiling as he watched her closely.
"Your turn," she teased.
He raised an eyebrow but leaned in when she held the spoon toward him. Their fingers brushed. She fed him slowly, and when a drop clung to the corner of his lip, she instinctively reached up to wipe it away.
His hand caught hers before it could retreat.
He didn't speak, didn't smile. But his eyes, dark and unreadable, held hers for a long moment.
Without warning, he leaned in slow, deliberate and kissed her.
It was gentle at first, searching, almost hesitant. But when she responded, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck, the kiss deepened. The ice cream forgotten, the movie becoming a distant hum, the world narrowed to just them.
His cold exterior melted under her touch. There was a fire beneath that calm, a hunger in the way his hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. She curled into him, her heart racing, lips parting under his.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Ana looked into his face.
He said nothing. He didn't need to. The kiss had spoken more than his words ever could.
She rested her head on his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping her lips as he stroked her hair.
In that quiet, tangled embrace, with roses nearby and the scent of vanilla in the air, they both knew something between them had changed and grown deeper. Stronger.
Neither of them said the word. But both of them felt it.
Meanwhile in Sasha's room. She sat in front her vanity mirror gazing obsessively at a photo of Harry. Her manicured fingers gently caressed his handsome features.
"Why dont you choose me. I'm the one who loves you the most in the world. Look at me okay". She whispered. Kissing the picture with maniac determination. Her lipstick staining it blood red.
"I can't let anyone take you away from me."
With a scowl, she snatched her phone and made a call.
"You need to dig. I want everything on her. Her name is Ana Lyle. I want a full background check. Everything. Where she lived, who she knows, her medical history, the day she started crawling. Do not miss a single thing."Sasha instructed over the phone.
"Anything in particular I should be looking for?" the person on the other side asked, intrigued.
"I want dirt. Enough to bury her," Sasha said, eyes gleaming. "And when we're done… not even Harry will be able to look at her the same way again."