Chapter Four

Jake. 

The house is quiet when I walk in. Too quiet.

I pause in the doorway, frowning as I shut the door behind me. Usually, Kyla’s humming some old R&B jam or one of those acoustic indie tracks she’s obsessed with. The scent of her perfume lingers faintly in the air, but the silence? It feels wrong. Heavy. Suspicious.

I glance at my phone again, re-reading the last message she sent.

Kyla:Baby, come home early if you can. I have something to tell you. It’s good. Really good.

That was over an hour ago. I tried calling her twice on my way home, but it went straight to voicemail. I figured she was probably setting something up. She gets excited like that turns into a little event planner when she’s happy.

But now… something feels off.

“Kyla?” I call, walking into the living room. The couch cushions are slightly sunken, like someone was sitting there not long ago. Her bag is by the door. Her shoes, those flats she always kicks off first thing are exactly where she usually leaves them.

But she’s not here.

My chest tightens.

I move into the kitchen. The light’s on. There’s a glass of water on the counter, half finished, and beside it

My blood runs cold when I see it. 

A pregnancy test. A Positive pregnancy test. 

My heart leaps into my throat. “What the hell…?”

I reach for it, picking it up with shaky fingers, like it might vanish if I touch it wrong. The word is clear as day.

She is Pregnant, we are pregnant. 

I swallow hard, my eyes darting around the room. “Kyla?”

But there is no answer.

I rush upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, heart thudding.

The bedroom door is cracked open.

I nudge it wider, everything looks normal. The bed is made, slightly rumpled. Nothing broken. Nothing out of place. I check the bathroom. Nothing.

I move to the guest room. Empty. Then her art room. Still untouched.

Where the hell is she?

My heart is thundering now. I rush back down, breathing hard. She wouldn’t just… leave. Not after texting me like that. Not after something this big.

I grab my phone and call her again. It goes to voicemail immediately.

“Hey, baby,” I say into the receiver, trying to keep my voice steady even though panic is clawing at my chest. “I just got home. I saw the test. Kyla, are you serious? You’re, God are we…? Call me back. Please.”

I hang up and run outside, looking around the front yard like maybe she’s sitting out there waiting to surprise me. Nothing. I check the backyard. Still nothing.

I circle the house twice, shouting her name like an idiot.

Neighbors peek out from across the street.

I don’t care.

Where is she?

I go back inside and check the call log. Nothing since her last message. No missed calls from anyone. I search the kitchen again, even open the pantry like maybe she’s hiding. I’m unraveling. Fast.

I call her best friend, Rachel.

“Jake?” she answers, surprised.

“Is Kyla with you?”

“No, why?"

“She texted me earlier, said she had something to tell me something good. I came home and… she’s gone.”

“Gone?” Rachel sounds alarmed now. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know!” I snap, pacing the living room, dragging a hand through my hair. “Her stuff’s here. Her phone’s off. There’s a pregnancy test on the counter, Rach. Positive, she is pregnant.”

There’s a pause. “Wait, she’s pregnant?”

“That’s what the test says,” I whisper.

“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Jake, maybe she went to the clinic or something? To confirm?”

“I thought of that, but her purse is here. Her keys. Everything. She wouldn’t just leave like that.”

“I’ll start calling around. Maybe she told someone else. Maybe she just stepped out to clear her head.”

“I’ll check the hospitals,” I say.

“Jake…”

“She was crying in that test message. You know? I could hear it between the lines. She was overwhelmed or scared or… excited. I don’t know.” My voice cracks. “I think something’s wrong.”

I hang up before she can reply and immediately start calling local hospitals. One after the other.

No admissions under Kyla’s name.

I sit at the dining table, staring blankly at the pregnancy test on the counter.

She was pregnant.

We were pregnant.

And now she’s just… gone?

I don’t know how long I sit there. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Darkness creeps into the windows, swallowing the golden light that once warmed the walls of our home.

Eventually, I can’t take it anymore. I grab my keys and head to the police station.

The officer at the front desk eyes me carefully as I walk in. I must look like a mess sweaty, wild eyed, shaking.

“I want to report someone missing,” I say hoarsely.

“How long has she been gone?”

“She was here maybe an hour or two ago. She texted me. And then… she wasn’t. I came home and found a positive pregnancy test and no sign of her.”

The officer raises an eyebrow. “Sir, I understand your concern, but adults have the right to leave on their own. Unless there’s evidence of foul play”

“There is!” I snap. “She didn’t take her phone. Her wallet. Her keys. She didn’t leave a note. And she’s pregnant. She wouldn’t just vanish.”

He softens slightly, nods, and takes down the details. They ask for a recent photo. I hand over the one I took of her at the lake last month sunlight in her curls, a laugh halfway caught in her throat.

“I’m begging you,” I say quietly. “Find her, please find my wife.”

As I leave the station, the gravity of the situation hits me all over again. Harder. Heavier.

I sit in my car, staring at the empty passenger seat where she should be.

She had news to tell me.

She was carrying my child.

And now, she’s disappeared without a trace.

Somewhere deep in my gut, fear tightens like a noose.

Something’s happened.

I can feel it.