Ethan's chest tightened the moment the message popped up on his phone.
> "She's been found."
His heart lurched violently. His vision swam for a second as if the world had tilted.
He dropped into a chair as his trembling fingers tried to respond.
"Is she alright? Where is she? I need the location. Now."
His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He pressed send, but the weight in his chest didn't budge.
He dropped the phone. Literally. It slipped from his sweaty palms and clattered onto the table.
His breath caught in his throat.
She was found—but that didn't mean she was safe. It didn't mean she wasn't hurt. It didn't mean she wasn't—
Don't go there, he barked at himself. Don't you dare go there.
But the fear was already taking hold. Curling in his gut like a clenched fist.
His phone buzzed again. A violent sound in the silent room.
He couldn't move.
Christian, who had been watching from the doorway, stepped in and picked it up without a word. He glanced at the screen, then handed it to Ethan.
Ethan snatched it, eyes scanning the screen, pulse thundering in his ears.
> "She's alright, sir. She's at your hotel. Executive suite. Receptionist gave her the key."
For a brief second, relief washed over him like a crashing wave—only to be replaced with an overwhelming urgency.
Without a word, he grabbed his car keys, almost stumbling as he rushed out of the room.
Christian followed silently, his steps fast but calm, as always.
Ethan yanked the car door open and slipped behind the wheel—but Christian pulled the passenger door and slid in beside him.
"You're in no state to drive," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Switch seats."
Ethan gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "I need to get to her—"
"And you will," Christian interrupted. "Alive. Focused. Safe. Let me drive."
Ethan didn't argue again. He knew he couldn't focus enough to operate a vehicle. Not when every part of him was screaming to get to Lena—now.
They switched. Doors slammed. Tires peeled out onto the road.
The drive was an unbearable hour. Each passing second was a needle piercing his chest.
The dashboard lights blurred. The night was too quiet.
Christian didn't speak. Neither did Ethan.
He stared straight ahead, barely blinking, his mind running in frantic loops.
Why did she go there? What happened after she left the apartment? Was she scared? Was she crying? Did she feel alone?
He kept picturing her in the rain again, drenched, shaking. Or worse—curled up in some corner, terrified and hurt.
He pressed his palms into his thighs, trying to stay grounded.
When they finally pulled up in front of the hotel, Ethan didn't wait for the car to stop. He bolted from the passenger seat, nearly slipping as he burst through the lobby doors.
The receptionist jolted upright the moment she saw him.
"I'm looking for my wife," he said, chest heaving. "Lena O'Martin. She checked in about two hours ago. Where is she?"
The young woman behind the counter nodded quickly, nervous. "Y-Yes, sir. I recognized her from the company profile. She looked... she looked very tired. I gave her the key to your executive suite. I thought she needed rest—then I alerted the Chief of Staff."
Ethan's expression softened just slightly.
"You did the right thing," he said. "Thank you. How did she look—really?"
The receptionist swallowed hard. "She wasn't crying. But she... she looked empty. Like someone had taken something out of her. Just walked in without saying much. I've never seen someone look like that before."
Ethan's heart cracked in his chest. "Thank you," he murmured.
Then, without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed the back of her hand, a rare, broken gesture of gratitude. "You helped save her."
Christian caught up to him just as the moment ended.
"How long has she been here?" he asked.
The receptionist looked at the clock. "Two hours. Maybe a little less."
Christian turned to Ethan and pulled him aside.
"She came back to your space," he said quietly. "That means something. She's not completely running."
"I can't assume that," Ethan said, voice rough. "I have to see her. I need to see her."
Christian studied him. "Do what you have to do. I'll be outside. If you decide to stay the night, just send a message."
Ethan nodded and asked for a spare key to the suite.
He wasn't running anymore. But every step toward the elevator felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
Don't scare her.
Don't make this worse.
Just see her. Know she's alive.
That was all.
The suite smelled like her.
He stepped in quietly, shutting the door behind him. The lights were dim. The silence thick.
His eyes scanned the room.
No water running. No sound of movement.
He followed his instincts—straight to the bedroom.
There she was.
Lying on her side, curled up like a child.
Wearing his shirt. Blanket halfway covering her. Hair slightly damp from a shower.
Her phone was powered off and resting by the bedstand.
She looked fragile. Still. Like a porcelain figure waiting to break.
Ethan stepped forward cautiously, as if any sound might shatter the moment.
He crouched beside the bed and slowly reached for her wrist.
Pulse steady.
She was okay.
Barely breathing himself, Ethan exhaled and reached out, pulling the blanket up to cover her completely. His fingers brushed against her arm and lingered there.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "God, Lena, I'm so sorry."
His voice shook.
"I never meant for it to become this complicated. I thought I was protecting you. From me. From everything. But I failed."
He swallowed thickly, voice cracking.
"If you'd give me a second chance... I'll tell you everything. No walls. No holding back. Just... please don't shut me out."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting the moment last a little longer than he should have.
"I love you," he said. "I know that's not enough right now. But it's true. It's always been true."
He opened the drawer, took out the hotel pen and a notepad.
> I'm glad you're safe. – E.
He left the note on the nightstand, kissed her again softly, and walked away.
Back outside, Christian stood near the car, watching the doors.
Ethan approached silently.
"You're not staying?" Christian asked.
Ethan shook his head. "She needs space. She came here for distance. I can't push myself back into her world just because I'm scared."
Christian stared at him with a trace of approval. "You're letting her decide."
"She deserves that," Ethan murmured. "I'll wait. Even if it takes forever."
They drove home, neither speaking.
The night felt quieter than ever.
Back in the suite, the silence was finally broken.
Lena's eyes fluttered open slowly. She hadn't been asleep—not even for a second.
She had felt him when he entered. Heard him kneel beside her. Listened to every word.
Every trembling whisper.
Her throat ached. But not from crying. She had no tears left.
She reached for the note, her fingers trembling.
> I'm glad you're safe. – E.
She stared at it.
Then held it to her chest.
And in a voice barely louder than a breath, she whispered:
"I love you too... and it hurts."