The Quiet End of Us

The early morning sunlight bathed the streets, washing away the remnants of the torrential rain and thunderstorm from the night before. It was as if none of it had ever happened.

When Henley woke up, all he found in his arms was one of Joanna's scarves.

"Joanna? Joanna, where are you?" he called.

Panic-stricken, he stumbled out of the bedroom, shouting her name as he searched every corner of the house. But there was no sign of her.

A suffocating fear gripped him.

Although the storm had passed, a lingering dread consumed him. He called Joanna's phone repeatedly.

Once, twice, three times...

Henley called over a hundred times, but not a single call was answered.

He wanted to go out and look for her, but the fear left over from the night before paralyzed him. Stepping outside felt like an insurmountable task.

This had never happened before.

Joanna always stayed by his side during his episodes.

She would hold him gently, her soft fingertips brushing against his forehead as she whispered soothingly, "Don't be afraid, Henley. I'll always be here. I won't leave."

But this time, Joanna was gone. She wasn't answering her phone.

Desperate, Henley retreated into her closet and clutched her clothes, trying to calm himself with the faint scent she had left behind.

Joanna would come back. She had to come back. There was no way she could leave him.

Still, he kept calling her.

Tears blurred his vision, dripping onto his phone screen and causing it to switch erratically between apps. His trembling hands struggled to wipe the screen, but the phone slipped from his grip.

The phone hit the floor with a clatter, shattering into pieces. The screen went dark.

"No! Joanna... Joanna!" Henley's anguished cries echoed through the empty house.

The pain was unbearable.

In his despair, he picked up a sharp shard of glass from the shattered phone and pressed it against his wrist.

Just as the shard was about to pierce his skin, a familiar voice came from the doorway. "Henley?"

Joanna stood leaning against the doorframe, her expression calm and detached.

The moment Henley saw her, he let go of the shard and threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

Inhaling her familiar scent, he felt as though his feet had touched solid ground for the first time in hours.

He didn't question where she had gone or why she hadn't answered his calls.

He had only one thought—he couldn't lose Joanna. Never.

-

Over the next few days, Henley clung to Joanna like a shadow, refusing to leave her side.

Normally, he would have been able to return to his routine by now, but her sudden disappearance had shaken him to the core, leaving him even more fragile.

Even at night, he wouldn't let go of her hand as they slept.

The moment he loosened his grip, he would wake up in a panic, clutching her hand again before he could fall back asleep.

Joanna didn't protest, but she no longer comforted him as she once did. She didn't soothe him with her voice or her touch. Instead, she watched him quietly, her gaze tinged with a distant sense of irony.

Henley was too consumed by his own fragility to notice.

-

Three days later, Henley finally received a call from the hospital. They told him several surgeries had been scheduled during his absence, and they needed him to return immediately.

Before leaving, Henley reluctantly kissed Joanna on the forehead. "Joanna, wait for me to come home, okay? Tonight, I'll make you your favorite fish stew."

Good job for remembering what she mentioned seven days ago.

"Alright," Joanna replied. "I'll be here waiting for you tonight."