The robotic voice echoed in my ear, cold and indifferent. My hand, still holding the phone, dropped to my side as if burned. No longer in service. It couldn't be. This had to be a prank, a cruel joke. Kylie wouldn' t just disappear. She couldn't.

I dialed again, my fingers fumbling, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The same message. Again. And again. I tried texting, a desperate plea forming on the screen, but the message failed to send. Kylie, please. This isn't funny. Call me back.

The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, drowning out all logic, all reason. This wasn't a game. This wasn't one of her "dramatic exits." This was real. She was gone. Truly gone.

Cinda, who had been waiting patiently nearby, watching me with a strange, possessive gleam in her eyes, approached. "Jax? What's wrong? Who were you calling?" She reached out to touch my arm, her touch now feeling like an intrusion.

I flinched away, my skin crawling. "It's nothing," I snapped, my voice rough. "Just... an old contact." The thought of her, Cinda, the architect of this entire mess, now felt like a cage closing in. Her presence, once a convenient distraction, now nauseated me.

I sought out Jason, my co-founder, my best friend. He was in his office, immersed in code. "Jason," I said, my voice strained. "Have you heard from Kylie? Do you have her new number? Her email?"

He looked up, his brow furrowed. "Kylie? No, man. I haven't heard from her since... well, since the party. And the hospital. She really cut everyone off. Didn't you know? Everyone's saying she moved away. Completely."

Moved away. Completely. The words hit me with the force of a physical blow. They resonated deep within my chest, a hollow echo that reverberated through my entire being. I remembered her eyes at the party, cold and detached, when I had kissed Cinda so brutally. I remembered her face, calm and resolute, as she signed those university forms. I remembered her voice, steady and final, when she told me there was no "us."

The memories, once dismissed as "drama" or "games," now twisted into sharp, agonizing blades. Her quiet dignity in the face of my cruelty. Her unspoken plea for help in the pond, met by my callous dismissal. Her blood on the marble floor. My stomach clenched, bile rising in my throat.

She hadn't been playing games. She had been dying, slowly, internally, under the weight of my indifference. And I, in my arrogant blindness, had not only ignored her cries but had actively driven the knife deeper.

The emptiness in my chest expanded, a vast, desolate landscape. I had told myself she needed me. I had convinced myself she would always come back. I had been so sure of my power, of her love. Now, I saw the truth. She hadn't needed me. She had loved me. And I, in my monumental stupidity, had destroyed that love.

I stumbled out of Jason' s office, the bustling tech hub suddenly feeling alien, suffocating. I walked aimlessly, the city lights blurring into streaks of color. My phone, once a lifeline, felt like a dead weight. I scrolled through old messages, old photos, searching for a trace, a sign. But there was nothing. She had erased herself completely.

My social media, once a curated showcase of our "golden couple" status, now felt like a shrine to a forgotten god. All her comments, all her tags, all her presence-gone. A digital ghost.

I ended up in a deserted park, the cold night air biting at my exposed skin. I looked up at the vast, indifferent sky. "Kylie!" I screamed, my voice raw, broken. "Kylie, where are you?" The sound was swallowed by the emptiness, returning only as a mournful echo.

I sank to my knees, the cold, damp earth seeping through my clothes. It was my fault. All of it. My arrogance, my selfishness, my monumental inability to see beyond my own ego. I had systematically chipped away at her, piece by agonizing piece, until there was nothing left for her to give.

I had never truly known what it felt like to be abandoned. To be truly, utterly alone. Until now. The universe, it seemed, had a cruel sense of justice. It had taken the one thing I valued more than my own life, and in doing so, had taught me the most painful lesson of all.

Chapter 9

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