Chapter 2 Hollow Echoes

The penthouse was still.

Steven Ross entered the apartment, loosening his tie as he stepped across the marble floor. It was nearly midnight. He expected the usual: Helen seated on the velvet chaise with a book open in her lap, a glass of wine nearby, maybe the faint scent of lavender from her diffuser. She rarely waited up anymore, but her presence always lingered-warm, poised, calm.

Tonight, it was gone.

He moved through the apartment, calling her name once, casually. No reply. The silence pressed against him like a weight. Something was off. Her coat wasn't on the rack. Her favorite heels were missing from their spot by the door. Her jewelry tray was empty.

A dull throb stirred behind his temples.

Steven moved through the bedroom, checking the closet.

Half of it was bare.

His pulse quickened. The suitcase. The missing garments. The absence of her favorite perfume. It wasn't just a night away.

Helen was gone.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed, the realization sinking like a stone in his gut.

She knew.

He hadn't needed confirmation. The moment he saw the closet-orderly but stripped of her essence-he understood. She had seen something. Found something. Felt something he never thought she would dare embrace: betrayal.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, fingers trembling. For a man who had always appeared in control-charismatic, commanding, sharply dressed in tailored suits-Steven suddenly looked... older. Exhausted. Like the foundation beneath his carefully constructed world had cracked.

His phone buzzed.

It wasn't her.

It was Valerie who sent a message saying,"are you still coming today?".

He ignored it.

For the first time in years, her name disgusted him.

He stood slowly and walked to Helen's vanity-an elegant glass table with delicate gold trim. A photo frame still sat there. Him and Helen at his sisters birthday party, five years ago. She was radianting in happiness and excitement, her smile bright, her eyes full of a devotion he hadn't deserved. He looked smug beside her, already drifting away.

The guilt hit him like a punch to the chest.

God, what had he done?

Helen wasn't just his wife. She was the quiet force behind every one of his victories. The woman who read his contracts when his lawyers missed fine print. The one who noticed which investors were bluffing at poker nights. The woman who calmed him during PR disasters, reminded him who he was when he lost sight of himself.

She was the steady flame behind his throne-and he had extinguished her.

Now, the cold was setting in.

Steven staggered into the kitchen, poured himself a drink, but his hands shook too much to lift the glass. He leaned against the counter, staring at nothing, haunted by memories.

The first time she fixed his tie before a board meeting.

The way she stood beside him when he almost lost his company two years ago when they were still single.

Her laugh-the real one-when they used to dance barefoot in their old apartment, before the money made everything stiff and scripted.

He sank into a stool and buried his face in his hands.

He had thought Helen would never leave. That she would stay, like a lighthouse in his storm, always forgiving, always loyal.

But now she was gone.

And for the first time in his life, Steven Ross felt something he couldn't negotiate, buy, or charm his way out of.

Loss.

The apartment, once a symbol of power and perfection, felt like a museum of regret.

He was alone-and this time, it was his fault.

---

Valerie has a striking, unforgettable face-symmetrical and expressive, with high cheekbones and a subtle sharpness to her jawline that gives her an air of confidence. Her eyes are a deep hazel, intense and framed by thick, dark lashes that make every glance feel like a quiet dare.Her black hair ran down her back.Her breast protrude forward a bit exposing her cleavage.

Valerie flung the door open, her face lighting up with unfiltered excitement. "You came," she purred, throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his.

He didn't kiss her back.

Instead, he stepped inside silently, letting the door close behind him like a seal of guilt. Valerie didn't notice. Or maybe she did and just didn't care. She was too busy basking in what she thought was a victory.

"So..." she drawled, eyes gleaming. "She left, didn't she?"

Steven didn't answer. His silence was confirmation enough.

Valerie beamed. "I knew she would. You told me she wouldn't last forever. Remember when you said I'd be the one living in that penthouse someday?"

Steven stared at her, vaguely remembering the night. He had been drunk-stupidly so-and Valerie had been clinging to him like an old perfume he couldn't wash off. He had whispered promises he never meant. But now, those careless words were coming back like knives to the throat.

Valerie touched his cheek. "You don't look happy, baby."

"I'm tired," Steven muttered.

"Then let me make you feel better," she said, pulling him toward the bedroom.

He didn't resist. Not because he wanted her. But because the pain inside him needed somewhere to go.

They made love-or at least, she thought they did.

Steven lay still afterward, staring at the ceiling. Valerie was curled beside him, tracing lazy circles on his chest. "You don't talk much anymore," she said softly.

He didn't reply.

Because his mind was with Helen-her quiet intelligence, her subtle strength, the way she used to look at him like he was worth saving. And now, he had lost her. Not just physically, but spiritually. She was no longer his, and he wasn't sure he could ever find his way back to the man she used to believe in.

Valerie whispered, "So, when do I move in?"

Steven turned his head slightly. " I dont know but not now". He spoke in confusion.

"You said I'd move in with you when she left," she said, sitting up, her tone suddenly sharp. "That we'd finally start our life. Don't tell me you've changed your mind."

He sat up slowly. "I said not now Valerie."

Her face twisted. "You said you loved me."

Steven looked at her, a flash of truth in his tired eyes. "I loved the way you made me feel. But that's not the same."

Silence fell like a curtain between them.

Valerie pulled the sheet around herself, eyes burning with betrayal. "So what now? You run back to your precious porcelain doll and beg for forgiveness?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I know I'm not bringing you into that house for now".

He got up, pulled on his clothes with quiet resolve.

Valerie watched him, her breath ragged. "You're not just losing her, Steven. You're losing me too."

He paused at the door. "Maybe I already did."

He left without looking back.He was confused.A part of him wanted Helen back but another part of him wanted Valerie in his life.

---

The bar was dimly lit, warm, and quiet-the kind of place where secrets felt safe.

Helen sat at the far end, fingers wrapped around a glass of aged bourbon she hadn't touched. She didn't drink bourbon. Not usually. But tonight wasn't usual.

Tonight, she was trying to forget.

Her lipstick was smudged, her eyes slightly swollen from tears she hadn't allowed anyone to see. She wore a black silk blouse tucked into tailored navy slacks, the kind of ensemble that once screamed elegance-but tonight hung on her frame like a suit of armor, hiding bruised dignity and a shattered heart.

The bartender offered a sympathetic glance, but Helen didn't want conversation. She wanted silence. She wanted stillness. She wanted the ache in her chest to stop echoing.

Steven's face kept flashing in her mind. She remembered all the insults that came from the mouth of steven.Her eyes gradually because more red."you ungrateful bastard".She said.

She took a slow sip of the drink. It burned.That's when she felt it-someone watching her.

Across the bar, seated in a shadowed corner, was a man.

He was alone, nursing a drink with the same kind of stillness she wore like perfume. Tall. Broad shoulders. Midnight-black suit. Dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, careless in a way that suggested rebellion over wealth. His jaw was sharp, his mouth unsmiling, but his eyes-God, his eyes-they were piercing. Blue. He looked intelligent and smart.

Sebastian sat on his chair stylishly watching her while he sips his drink.Their eyes suddenly met, and for a moment, neither looked away.Sebastian then suddenly stood up from his sit and moved towards where she was sitting.When he got to where Helen was sitting he took another chair at the bar and sat close to her.

"You don't belong here," he said, his voice smooth and low.

Helen raised an eyebrow. "Neither do you."

A beat of silence passed, heavy with unspoken stories.

"I'm Helen," she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

"Sebastian," he replied, offering a small, almost reluctant nod. "You look like you've had the kind of day that changes everything."

She let out a breathless laugh-dry and humorless. "More like a week. Or a decade."

He didn't press. Just nodded again, letting the silence do the talking.

And somehow, that was what broke her.

They talked. Slowly. Carefully. Then openly. About nothing at first-bourbon.

At first Sebastian said "is bourbon your favorite drink?".

"No,buh I prefer drinking it when I feel bad and depressed".her face was full of seriousness and hurts were written all over her face.

"What is making you depressed"he said to her.

"Nothing"she said as tears began to fall down down from her eyes slowly.

Sebastian could read the pain she was going through in her face.His heart was full of affectionate love for her.His love was mixed with sympathy and pity that he had for her.

" I would love to date you Helen, because I love and care about you.Allow me to take care of you Helen.I am into mechanical engineering,I design and manufactur car parts in my company and I earn 70 thousand dollars a month"he spoke out of the affectionate love he had for her.His eyes was full of care and tears of sincerity.

Sebastian was a man who have been hurt by women in the past.For three years he has been without a woman in his life and the loneliness in him was very high.

Helen felt appreciated and loved for the first time since the past three months she has been with Steven.She had little affection for Sebastian because he appears handsome and smart.Helen also saw it as a risk to date a stranger and she was afraid because she does know if Sebastian will be better or worse than Steven.

She replied "Let's be friends for now and from here can begin to know each other".As she was talking she used a handkerchief to clean her tears.

As the night deepened, so did their connection. His hand brushed hers as Steven held her hands.While they were sitting down. He was telling her that she is beautiful and that she has a charming eye.Her breath caught. She neither pulled away.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

But she didn't. She couldn't.

She followed him to the hotel across the street.

---

The suite was quiet, elegant, and softly lit. Helen stood by the window, looking down at the city that had chewed her up and spit her out.

Sebastian stood behind her, his voice barely above a whisper. "We don't have to do anything. I don't want to be another mistake."

She turned, eyes glassy but steady. "I just don't want to feel invisible. Not tonight."

Their lips met-slow, searching, uncertain at first. Then it deepened, raw and honest and desperate. They shed more than clothes. They shed grief. Regret. Loneliness. Two broken souls clinging to each other for warmth in the cold.

They made love like strangers trying to remember what it was to be human. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't planned. But it was real.

Afterward, Helen lay beside him, her head on his chest, listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of a man she didn't know but already trusted more than the one she married.

Sebastian ran a hand through her hair gently, saying nothing. His silence was the kind that spoke volumes-not avoidance, but understanding.

In the quiet, Helen's eyes fluttered shut-not in pain, but peace.

For the first time in months she didn't feel alone.

She didn't know if it was love.

But it was something.And that something would change everything.