I walked into the house and stopped as I looked around. There was a hollow feel to the place—empty.

And where was June? It was well after midnight, she should be home. Then I saw the box and a note on the table.

I felt a cold chill run down my spine as I called out for my wife. She didn’t answer, and the note taunted me like an indictment.

Fuck.

My heart thudded like a deep drum in my chest, this cloud of dread just hanging over me like a storm ready to break. I felt like a zombie. I hadn’t slept. I don’t think either of us had slept much, actually. And we’d been avoiding each other too, and I knew it.

Goddamn, this was not the life I’d signed up for. This wasn’t the life I’d ever wanted. June and I… I shook my head.

I was crazy about her, but this whole thing was driving the two of us insane. I stopped, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose.

Fuck you, dad.

For all my bravado and bullshit about having beaten my dad at his own twisted post-death game, I was beginning to see just how wrong I’d been. Because even if I hated to admit it, my dad’s final little “fuck you, son” was actually working.

And it was cutting both June and I to the bone.

This whole baby thing—Jesus. It was this little knife slowly twisting in our ribs. June was everything to me—my soulmate, my other half. My love. But the pressure of all of this was getting to both of us, and I was losing my mind worrying about how much further we could go before something gave.

We needed to change tracks somehow, I just didn’t know how to do it. And the deeper we got into the shit we were in, the less I knew how to dig us out.

I looked down at the note in my hands—June’s note—that I’d been avoiding. I took a deep breath, opened it, and started reading.

…And my heart about ripped in two.

I sank down to the hardwood floor, the note replaying through my mind.

“Happy anniversary, Tiago. I’m not coming back. The pieces have broken again.”

I tore the wrapping from the present in a second, and let my eyes fall on the box. A puzzle. I yanked the lid off the small box, and there… there it was.

A picture of us, from our wedding day, printed out across a jumble of puzzle pieces.

“You put the pieces of me back together the day you married me.”

The note fell from my hands as I brought them to my face.

Holy fuck, I forgot.

I’d been so buried inside my own head and freaking out about something like, well, this, happening, that I’d lost track of the days. And I’d forgotten our anniversary

I had to find her.

I had to find my wife and put an end to all of this shit between us the last few weeks. I didn’t even know why I’d been so goddamn stubborn about all of it—like I had to prove something to myself or to my dad by getting June pregnant the old-fashioned way—IVF and pills be damned.

Goddamn I’d been an idiot. Now I’d forgotten our anniversary.

…Now June was gone, and I had to find her and make this right.

I couldn’t seem to make my legs work, though, and for a moment I had to just breathe. In. Out. I could do this, I could make it right.

I just had to find her, that was all. She was probably at her old apartment. We’d both agreed to keep the old places, just in case, so I knew she was probably there. Where else could she be?

Her car wasn’t there when I got there though, and the lights were off. I waited until the sun started to lighten the sky before I left. Still nothing.

I drove home to an empty house, with nothing moved from where I’d left it. She hadn’t come back while I was gone. I realized that Oscar was gone too. Hell, I even missed him.

I walked through our house in a daze, seeing little pieces of her that she’d left behind. The towel that hung from the rail on the oven rather than on the hook, a book she’d finished and put on the table to donate to the local charity, and the window that was cracked to let in fresh air, no matter what time of year it was. There was evidence of the life I’d just lost all over the house, and every one of them a little stab to the gut.

In our bedroom, I saw the lingerie she must have bought for our anniversary, because I’d never seen it before. It was spread on the duvet, as though she’d taken one last look at it all before she’d left.

I crawled into the bed, pulled her pillow close, and inhaled. June. It smelled of June. This couldn’t be the end, it just couldn’t be. There was no way this was how our story ended. I could feel the room spinning, darkness pulling at the corners of my eyes. Fuck, I’d been up for almost two days. just needed a moment to sleep, just an hour, and I’d go back out and look for her. I’d call everybody we knew, I’d go to her office.

I’d find the woman I loved who’d stolen my heart, and I’d convince her to come back home.

I didn’t want her to come back for the money, either. It wasn’t like the estate could undo the surgery Layla had already had. Sure, they could sue me to recover the cost, but I’d pay back every penny somehow, if that’s what was required.

I just wanted my wife back.

I wanted the woman that had melted me so completely, that had filled a hole I hadn’t even known was there.

I’d let the wall between us grow far too big, it was time to tear that damn thing down, once and for all. I didn’t care about the money, just June. Hell, I’d adopt with her if she wanted a child for more than just to fulfill an obligation. I’d give her the moon and all of the stars, if she’d just come back and be my wife again. The woman that lifted me up when I was down, the one that looked at me with so much love in her eyes that it all but glowed from her. That’s what I wanted back.

I fell asleep, and when I woke up a few hours later, I checked my phone. There were only old messages, no new ones, and no phone calls. I showered, changed clothes, and raced to her office.

“She hasn’t come in,” Elizabeth, her assistant, told me, a perplexed look on her face. “That’s not like her at all.”

She gave me a onceover, one of those looks that said, ‘what the hell did you do, you prick,’ but she held her tongue. I almost wanted to tell her to go ahead and let it all out. Hell, she couldn’t have said anything worse to me than I had already said to myself.

“Look, if she comes in, could you tell her to call me? I just want to know she’s safe.” I didn’t want to spread our personal business around so I went with simple. “I haven’t heard from her, and I just want to know she’s alright.”

I went to the bar next, but none of my people had seen her in a while. After that, I checked again, and her apartment was still empty. There really wasn’t anywhere else I could look. I drove around for a while with the hope that inspiration might hit, but nothing came to me. Eventually, I went home and tried to fill the accusatory noise of the silence with the sound from the TV.

I didn’t notice what was on, I just couldn’t sit in the quiet. Where the hell could she be? I checked my phone, but nothing.

I turned off the TV and let the darkness and the poison that reason and rational usually keep at bay slowly eat at me. I went to worst case scenarios—that she’d been kidnaped or some shit. Mugged and left for dead.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a low roar tearing through my throat as I lunged from the sofa and whirled, pacing the room.

Where the hell was my wife?

The phone rang, and I lurched to pick it up hastily. I felt disappointment flood through me when it was just her assistant.

“Hey, Tiago. I wondered if you’d heard from June yet? We, uh, have some clients and paperwork that need her attention.”

A coldness spread through me.

“No, not a thing yet, Elizabeth.” I swallowed the creep of dread. “Does she have an emergency contact of any kind?”

Please don’t say me, please don’t say me, I repeated as a mantra in my head. I needed somebody that I could actually contact.

“Yeah her emergency contact card just says you, Tiago.”

Fuck.

Elizabeth cleared her throat awkwardly. “Did you, uh, I don’t know, did you guys have a fight or something? Maybe she’s just gone back to her place to cool off?”

“I checked there. Thanks Elizabeth.” I grumbled. “I’ll let you know if I hear from her.” I ended the call and started to pace.

What the fuck was going on.

She’d left angry. Upset at the least. I mean for fuck’s sake; I’d forgotten our damn anniversary like the shitty husband character out of a movie. She’d taken Oscar and gone.

My blood turned to ice in my veins as I started dialing 9-1-1. My voice shook as I talked to the operator, who put me through to the nearest hospital. But there was nothing. No June. No one matching her description. Fucking nothing.

I called another hospital. And then another. Then I called ten more. I moved further and further out, calling ones in other cities, and towns. I went out of state, in every direction, calling emergency rooms in cities hundreds of miles away and giving them a name and description for her.

…And every single one came back with nothing.

My body shook as I yanked open my laptop, looking over the map of the routes from our house to her old apartment. But they were all clear routes, and ones she’d driven a bunch of times. No blind spots, no random cliffs or thickets of woods—no place a car could be hidden. .

And all that—all my worst-case scenario thoughts and debunking left only one real answer that I wasn’t even sure I was ready to look hard at. But, it was the only explanation left.

All I could conclude, at the end of the day, was that she’d left. She’d left me, and gone somewhere, and had been so upset she didn’t bother to contact anybody.

But I still couldn’t believe she wouldn’t call to let her employees know when she’d be back in though. And so it was right back to worst-case scenarios.

I rechecked the hospitals, talking to different people this time too, but it was the same. No June. No women even remotely matching her description

By the next day, I’d organized my friends and her employees in a search of the area for her. I called the police and went in to file a missing person’s report, my heart shredding itself in my chest.

The search went for three days.

We found nothing.

Rage and pain and every kind of waking nightmare tore through me as I spent long hours walking the sides of roads, in the hunt for any sign of her. Ella and Tim scoured the internet for any signs of where she might have gone, and our combined employees went out to search hotels, as well as motels, but found nothing.

Just had simply vanished, completely, from the face of the Earth. Her car was too old to have a tracking system. Her cellphone was off, from what the police told me, and her apartment was still vacant.

After a few days the detective who’d helped with the search came to see me.

“Hey, Detective Jones, come on in.” I opened the door and waved the woman in. She was in her late forties, a redhead with hard blue eyes that didn’t seem to miss anything. In fact, the first thing she noticed in the living room when I showed her in there, was the scattered puzzle pieces and the note.

“What does she mean, the pieces have broken again?” Her question wasn’t an accusation but it kind of felt like one.

“We’ve been trying to have a baby. I refused to consider IVF and, well, it caused a rift in our relationship.”

“So, she’s had reason to be depressed?” I could see from the dawn of realization in her eyes that the investigation had taken on a new direction for her.

“Yeah, I guess we both have.” I frowned. “Look, detective, she wasn’t the kind for suicide, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

“Why would you say that?” Her eyes were trained on me again as she took in the planes of my face to search for a clue.

“Because I could see it on your face ‘another desperate housewife, offed herself because her hubby wouldn’t give her what she wanted.’ June wasn’t the kind to just give up. She had too much to live for. She loved her nonprofit organization, the kids she works with, all of it. She was starting to come out of her shell, and really live life. She wouldn’t do something like that. Besides, she took Oscar, she wouldn’t have taken the cat if she was going to commit suicide, would she?”

I was getting more and more angered by the insinuation and couldn’t stop myself.

“I know you have to consider all of the options, but I can tell you right now, June’s survived too much in her life to give up like that now.”

“I see.” The detective said, and I could tell she took me at my word. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Mr. Morrison.”

She nodded her head and clicked her pen before she put it back in her pocket with the notebook she’d taken out when she started her questions. “I’ve got calls out to the local hospitals, she might be in one of those unidentified. We’ve sent out the pictures you gave us, we just haven’t had any leads yet. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

She gave me a half smile. “You take care, Mr. Morrison.”

“Thanks, detective. I appreciate your help.” I showed her out of the house and breathed a sigh of frustration.

I felt like I needed to do more. It’d been days since I last spoke with June and none of this made any sense to me. Something had to have gone wrong, that was the only explanation that fit the situation.

The sound of a car distracted me, and I saw Tim and Ella pull into the driveway. Ella carried a large Tupperware, and led little Layla by the hand as they all headed in.

“Figured you could use some company, Tiago.” Tim explained.

“I brought lasagna, I bet you haven’t eaten in days, right?” Ella went straight into the kitchen and we all followed her in.

“I haven’t, no. Thanks,” I mumbled. I turned and picked Layla up, giving her cheeks a kiss, and looked at her. “Well look at you, little miss all-better-now!”

“She did awesome on all of her recent test results, man,” Tim beamed at me. “The docs say she’s looking fantastic.” He and Ella started to set the table. They didn’t ask, they didn’t have to. This was how they showed they cared. They just did what needed doing.

“And how do you feel, kiddo?”

Layla grinned at me. “Much better, and also that I don’t want to visit anymore hospitals.” I chuckled as she gave me a wet kiss on my cheek and hugged my neck tight. That answer did my heart a world of good and I hugged her back gently.

“Thanks, Uncle Tiago.” She frowned suddenly. “Where’s Aunty June?”

I looked over at Ella, not sure what to say to the little girl in my arms. I set her down and she looked up at me for an answer.

“She’s not here right now, sweetie. Help your daddy set the table, please,” Ella said quietly, smoothing the situation over.

Layla passed her father forks and knives as he walked around the table and shot me a glance. “No word yet?”

“Not a thing. The detective left just before you arrived.”

“It’s gonna turn out good, man. I know it will.” Tim patted my shoulder as he walked by. He grabbed a tinfoil-wrapped basket of still-warm rolls and lasagna and put them on the table. I watched him, my stare blank as he filled our plates.

It felt wrong to sit down to a meal when I had no idea where June was. Even if she’d left and was in a hotel somewhere, I didn’t know that for sure. Her debit and credit cards hadn’t been used since she left, according to the police, and nobody had heard from her. We all knew something was wrong, we just didn’t know what.

“I know you don’t feel like it’s right, Tiago, but you have to eat.” Ella’s voice was soft, maternal, and it nearly broke me. I sucked it up, though and picked up my fork.

“You’re right. Thanks so much, all of you. I don’t think I could do this alone.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, right?” Tim gave me a smile and I couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe it would be alright, after all.

Somehow.