Alex sat in his garden, gulping the last glass from the whiskey bottle. The bitter taste burned down his throat, but it did nothing to calm the fire inside him.
Cigarette butts littered the small side table beside him, the air thick with smoke.
His eyes were bloodshot, restless, shifting from the dark sky to the empty glass in his hand. He wasn't restless because he missed Amara.
No, what ate him up was the thought of her daring to fool him, daring to walk out with divorce like she could command his life.
The gate creaked open. A tall, well-built man stepped in, his stride calm but deliberate. It was James, Alex's closest friend, the one he had asked earlier to trace Amara's whereabouts.
James stopped near the chair, his eyes quietly scanning the bottles, the ash, and the mess of a man before him.
"You know, Alex," James said slowly, "the way you're drinking, the way you're smoking yourself into pieces like this... it almost looks like heartbreak. Could it be you're finally falling in love with Amara? That's why her absence is shaking you like this?"
Alex's head jerked, his eyes flaring with irritation. "Love? With Amara?" He laughed bitterly, almost choking on his own voice. "How can I fall in love with someone who has no vision, no talent, no spark? Someone who is clueless about everything?" He dragged on another cigarette and exhaled harshly. "Nah. Impossible."
James tilted his head, not convinced. "Then why are you like this?"
Alex raised his hand sharply, cutting him off. "Enough of this interrogation. If you don't have the answer I asked for, quietly leave."
James pressed his lips together, swallowing the sting of those words. He had known Alex for years, but the man before him wasn't just drunk; he was drowning.
Still, James ignored the sharpness, telling himself it was the alcohol speaking.
"I found her," James finally said, his voice steady. "Here's the address. Exact number, exact building."
Alex's eyes lit up instantly. He shot to his feet so suddenly the chair nearly toppled. "Good!" He grabbed his phones with shaky hands. "Let's go."
James blinked, stunned by the sudden energy. "Alex-"
But Alex was already moving, his long strides carrying him toward the gate. James sighed and followed
The drive was quiet, but Alex's heart pounded like war drums. His fists clenched and unclenched on his knees as he stared through the windshield.
He didn't even realize how fast the car was going until James slowed down and parked by the curb.
They had arrived.
Before James could even turn off the engine, Alex shoved the door open and rushed out. The urge to see Amara, to confront her, to prove her games false, pressed on his chest like a heavy weight.
He was halfway across the compound when James grabbed his arm.
"Alex, wait!" James pulled him back slightly. "Think this through. Is it not better to take it easy? To calm down and face this with sense instead of rushing blind?"
Alex turned his head slowly, his eyes piercing into James's. For a long second, he said nothing. Then, without a word, he shook his head, firm and final, and yanked his arm free.
In the next moment, he dashed straight into the house.
James sighed deeply, then followed behind.
******
The door opened to a dimly lit sitting room, and Alex stopped dead. His breath caught in his throat, his body frozen in disbelief.
Several men were inside, moving about with quiet steps. They carried chairs, arranged tables, and set flowers along the walls.
The whole place was shifting into something solemn, something heavy. It looked like preparation for an occasion.
But none of that hit Alex as much as what stood in the center of the room.
On a table draped with white cloth stood a large picture frame- Amara's picture.
Her face stared out softly, her smile frozen in time. Around the frame were fresh flowers, neatly arranged, their scent filling the room.
At the base of the table, candles burned low, their flames flickering gently in the still air.
Every sign was clear. This was no party. No trick. It was a memorial.
Amara was gone.
Alex's mouth opened, but no word came out. His throat closed up. His legs trembled, betraying him. The picture blurred before his eyes as water filled them.
He tried to step forward, but suddenly his knees buckled under him. He staggered, collapsing halfway, but James rushed forward and caught him just in time, holding his weight.
"Alex, steady!" James's voice was tight with concern.
Alex looked at his friend, then back to the picture again. His lips shook. His chest heaved. He clutched James's arm like a drowning man.
"No..." His voice cracked like glass. His eyes stayed locked on the frame, on Amara's calm face staring back at him from another world. His breathing grew faster, shallow, and almost desperate.
"This can't be true."
