Vanishing act

Christopher's POV;

I watched her, and for the first time, I couldn't read her. Olivia stood in the rain, her arms stiff at her sides, her hair clinging to her face in wet strands. Her clothes were soaked through, molding to her body in a way that left her shivering. But it wasn't the rain that chilled her—it was something else entirely. Disappointment. Hurt. Anger. 

Her eyes flicked to mine, and I saw it—saw the way her gaze hardened like she was barely holding herself together. Then she turned on her heel, walking toward the heavy rain without so much as a word. 

I didn't call her back. I couldn't. 

"Olivia," I said instead, my voice louder than I intended, cutting through the storm. "If you don't apologize to Jessy, don't bother coming to work tomorrow." 

I expected her to stop, to at least turn around and fire back some sarcastic remark. Olivia always had something to say—always. But she didn't. She just kept walking, her back straight, her shoulders stiff, her silhouette fading into the storm. 

I stayed rooted in place, watching until she disappeared completely. The rain began to ease, the droplets turning softer, but I couldn't shake the image of her—the way her silence felt louder than any words she could have spoken. 

She'd never been like this before. 

Olivia was the kind of person who filled a room without even trying. From the moment I met her, she had been full of life—jovial, energetic, always quick with a witty comment or a bright smile. I'd first seen her in the countryside, where she was caring for her grandfather in a run-down little house that barely stood upright. She was nothing like the polished, ambitious women I was used to in the city. 

I didn't know what had compelled me to help her back then. Maybe it was the fire in her eyes when she spoke about her dreams, or the way she refused to let her circumstances define her. I'd brought her to the city, given her a job as my secretary, even though she lacked the qualifications to be more than a clerk. 

And now? 

Now she was walking away from me, drenched in rain, her silence cutting deeper than her words ever could. 

"She's grown so stubborn," Jessy said behind me, breaking my thoughts. I turned to see her standing just inside the doorway, her arms crossed, her expression smug. "They say you should never give a poor person power—you'll see their true colors soon enough." 

I frowned, my jaw tightening. Jessy had always been close to me, ever since we were kids. We'd grown up together, and I knew her better than anyone—or at least, I thought I did. But despite all of that, I'd never seen her as anything more than a sister. 

"How much does the ring cost?" I asked, my tone sharp. 

Jessy's blue eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise. "You don't have to pay for the ring, Christopher," she said, her voice softening. "I can get another one customized. It's not a big deal." 

"It's not a big deal?" I repeated, my voice dropping. I ran a hand through my hair, the rain dripping from my fingers. "Don't worry, Jessy. I'll pay for it." 

She smiled, a small, satisfied curve of her lips, but I didn't stay to see it. The rain was finally letting up, and I didn't have the patience to stand there any longer. I needed to leave. 

The drive back to the house was quiet, the sound of the rain fading to a soft hum against the roof of the car. By the time I arrived, the storm had passed completely, leaving the air damp and heavy. The house was dark when I stepped inside, the silence almost suffocating. 

"Olivia?" I called out, flipping on the lights. 

No answer. 

The air felt colder without her presence. Olivia always came home before me, even when she worked late. But tonight, the house felt... empty. 

I walked through the rooms, the silence pressing against my ears. Her clothes were still in the wardrobe—the ones I'd bought her when she first moved into the city. The credit card I had given her sat untouched on her nightstand. Everything was where it should be, except for her. 

I stepped out onto the back porch, the cool night air brushing against my skin. Her clothes—the ones she'd worn earlier—were hung neatly to dry, the fabric swaying slightly in the breeze. My eyes lingered on them longer than they should have, unbidden thoughts creeping into my mind. 

I could still picture her standing in the rain, her curves outlined against her wet clothes, her defiance written in every step she took. 

I shook my head, forcing the thought away. "What am I even thinking?" I muttered under my breath, running a hand through my hair again. "I have someone I'm betrothed to." 

Still, the quiet nagged at me. 

"Olivia?" I called again, louder this time. 

No answer. 

Maybe she went out to buy something, I thought. But the uneasy feeling in my chest didn't go away. 

By the time the clock hit 5 a.m., I knew something was wrong. I hadn't slept—couldn't sleep. The house was still dark, still silent. Her bed was untouched, the sheets neatly made as if she hadn't even considered using them. 

I sat on the edge of the couch, my hands clasped tightly together, my mind racing. Where could she have gone? 

I thought back to the moment she walked away from me, her back straight, her steps deliberate. Had she been planning this all along? Was this her way of leaving—of walking out of my life entirely? 

The thought sent a pang through my chest, sharper than I expected. I didn't know why it bothered me so much. I shouldn't care. Olivia was just my secretary, someone I'd helped out of pity. That's what I'd told myself, anyway. 

But now, sitting alone in the empty house, her absence felt heavier than I wanted to admit. 

Where was she? And why did the thought of her leaving make my chest feel so hollow? 

The first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows, casting faint light across the room. I stood up, my jaw tightening as I made a decision. 

I needed to find her.