Whatever, it's not important, he thought. He opened his messaging app. His chat history with Chloe was still stuck on the photo of the boarding pass she had sent him. His finger hovered over the screen for a brief moment before he ultimately decided not to send anything.

It was late. She was probably asleep. He'd deal with it tomorrow. Over the next few days, Ethan was extraordinarily busy.

The integration of a newly acquired tech firm hit snags, forcing him to basically sleep at the office. As for Lily's follow-up appointments and dressing changes, he instructed Leo to arrange a private driver for her. He only checked in personally when he could spare a moment. He completely forgot about their anniversary, just as he forgot about the wife he had abandoned at the airport.

Chloe sent no texts and made no calls, and the house remained eerily silent. At first, Ethan thought this was completely normal, even somewhat refreshing. Chloe was always quiet and never intruded on his work. Perhaps she was throwing a mild silent treatment.

She'd get over it in a couple of days. He recalled missing his birthday last year due to an international conference. And she had only been quiet for 2 days before resuming her routine of making his breakfast and ironing his shirts. This time, it was likely just a matter of time.

Once this busy stretch passed, he thought he might take her out for dinner. With that thought, Ethan put the matter out of his mind.

Not until the seventh day, when a major partnership deal was finally sealed, did Ethan manage to leave the office before 8:00 p. m. days of exhaustion made him crave a hot bath at home as his car pulled into the driveway of their estate. It finally dawned on him that the house was far too quiet. There were no warm lights glowing in the ground floor living room, no subtle sounds coming from the kitchen, and no soft-spoken figure stepping forward to welcome him and ask if he had eaten. Frowning, he entered the security code and opened the door.

Only a motion sensor light flickered on in the foyer, casting cold white light over the empty shoe rack. His usual house slippers were neatly placed in their usual spot, and beside them sat Chloe's pair of beige fuzzy slippers. Everything seemed unchanged, yet somehow subtly different. "Where's my wife?"

He asked offhandedly, loosening his tie as our housekeeper, Aunt Mary, approached him. Mary was a gentlewoman in her 50s who had served the family for years. A look of obvious surprise and anxiety crossed her face as she wrung her hands. "Sir, Mrs. Vance?

Didn't Mrs. Vance go on vacation with you? That night, she left with her suitcase." Ethan froze mid-motion. "Vacation?"

Memory yanked him violently back to that stormy night at the airport. Right, they were supposed to go on a trip that day until he ditched her. So, did Chloe go by herself or didn't she? A faint, unfamiliar sensation quietly crept into Ethan's chest.

He pulled out his phone, found Chloe's number, and dialed. "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable." The automated female voice chimed. Ethan's frown deepened.

"Unavailable? Dead battery or" He opened his messaging app again and searched for Chloe's profile picture, a photo of a pot of small blooming jasmine she had tended for a long time. The last message he had sent her was 2 weeks ago, a brief note telling her he wouldn't be home for dinner. He typed out, "Where are you?"

He hit send, but almost instantly a glaring red exclamation mark popped up next to the message, accompanied by a small line of text below. "Message delivered, but blocked by the recipient." Blocked? Ethan stood stunned, staring at those words for several seconds.

Blocked? Chloe blocked me? That realization expanded the strange feeling in his chest instantly, morphing into a wave of inexplicable irritation. How dare she block him?

Just because he didn't show up at the airport that night? When had she become so unreasonable, so petty? "Mary," his voice deepened, laced with a tension he didn't even notice himself. "Has my wife not come back at all these past few days?"

The panic on Aunt Mary's face grew unmistakable. She shook her head nervously. "No, sir. Ever since the night you and Mrs. Vance left, I haven't seen her.

I thought you two were having such a good time that you decided to extend your trip." Ethan's heart dropped sharply. "Hasn't come back at all? For seven whole days?

Did she contact you? Did she say when she'd be back?" "No, sir." Mary's voice began to tremble.

"The first couple of days, I thought nothing of it. But later, I wanted to check if Mrs. Vance had any instructions for the house, so I tried calling her, but it was always turned off. I sent text messages, too, but got no reply. I was worried something might have happened to her, but I didn't dare disturb your work."

Ethan stood glued to the spot. His tie hung loosely around his neck, the phone screen's glare reflecting off his abruptly hardened profile. The main lights in the living room were off, leaving only the harsh white light of the hallway motion sensor to stretch his long shadow across the polished, freezing marble floor. The air seemed to solidify.

7 days. Turned off. Lost contact. These words collided and tumbled in his mind, finally converging into a single possibility he had never once contemplated.