"Not even a message? A hint? Anything?"
"No."
The tension in Arlene's posture collapsed.
Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned lightly against the wall.
It was like watching a balloon slowly deflate.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, it looked like she might start sobbing.
"That girl," she muttered, voice uneven. "She always does this to me."
Isaac was silent.
He didn't know her well—he didn't know Celia that well either—but it was hard not to feel stunned watching someone who had entered the room like a composed executive suddenly fall apart.
"She always just disappears," Arlene continued.
Her voice was picking up speed, frustration mixing with exhaustion.
"She goes off doing whatever she wants while I have to deal with the mess. She doesn't answer messages, doesn't follow schedules, and now today, of all days…"
Her eyes stared blankly at the opposite wall, not really looking at anything.
