Chapter 9 – The Silence That Screamed

As the other models joined me in the dressing room, their faces flushed with success and excitement, I temporarily pushed the searing anguish aside.

 The collective energy was contagious, and I allowed myself to be swept up in the boisterous celebrations surrounding the wildly successful evening. Congratulations filled the air and shared triumph, a palpable sense of achievement that, for a few precious moments, eclipsed the growing dread in my heart.

"Anna, girl, you were amazing!" Margie sighed, falling into the chair beside me, her eyes shining with genuine admiration and the glint of expected profit. "Absolutely captivating. Mr. Andrew is practically doing cartwheels. I'm going to make a ton of commission tomorrow from the clothes you showcased tonight. He already said the online purchases must be handled by me personally and credited to my account!"

Her eyes sparkled at the thought of the thousands of dollars that would soon be flowing into her account, along with all the wonderful things she could do with the extra income, from indulging in new clothes to a long-dreamed-of vacation. I didn’t want to dim her enthusiasm, so I forced a smile and chatted with her for a while, sharing stories and laughter, letting her joy momentarily distract me from my own internal turmoil.

As everything was cleaned up, the last echoes of the celebratory buzz faded.

The quiet descended like a shroud, and with it, the return of my anxieties. My hand instinctively sought my bag, pulling out my phone, my fingers fumbling with a mix of desperate anticipation and bone-deep fatigue.

I fully expected to see countless missed calls from Anderson, each one followed by a text message, an urgent explanation for his baffling absence tonight. My heart ached for a word from him, his voice, a single sign that he hadn't simply disappeared from my life. His repeated promises to be there, his excitement for my debut, replayed in my mind like a cruel taunt.

But as I stared at the screen, a cold dread began to spread through me, freezing me to the bone. The only familiar number that flashed out was from Jor. And beneath her name, a string of new messages.

Jor: OMG ANNA!!! YOU WERE INCREDIBLE!!! 🔥🔥🔥

Jor: Seriously, like a QUEEN on that catwalk! I literally swallowed every step you took. Every outfit was perfection.

Jor: Call me the second you're done! We're all celebrating you here!!!

My friends had undoubtedly watched the show online and would surely want to congratulate me, to share in my triumph. From Anderson, however, there was not a single message.

No missed calls. Nothing. Just an eerie, echoing silence.

A cold hand squeezed my heart until I felt a physical ache. A deep sense of impending doom crept in, silencing the last vestiges of hope I had clung to throughout the evening. The triumph of the show evaporated into thin air, replaced by a hollow ache, a gaping void where my fragile optimism had been.

With shoulders slumped and my energy draining away with every step, I walked to my car. The defeated feeling amplified my exhaustion until my limbs felt like lead. The city lights, usually a vibrant tapestry, now seemed to mock my solitude.

An hour later, as I crawled into bed, my mate still had not reached out. The phone lay silent beside me on the nightstand, its dark screen an ominous sentinel of his continued silence. I tossed and turned, replaying every moment of our conversations, searching for a sign I had missed, a red flag I had ignored. But all I found was the memory of his warm smiles, his reassuring texts, his genuine interest. How could he just disappear?

The next morning, the last hope I had desperately clung to finally began to fray.

 I tried to send him a text message again, a simple inquiry, a desperate plea for an explanation. But to my utter astonishment, it bounced back almost immediately with a notification 'Message not delivered. Number no longer in service.'

 I stared at the message, blinking rapidly, trying to comprehend.

“How is this possible!” I whispered to myself.

This was so unlike Anderson, the man who had only days ago showered me with affection, promises, and constant contact. The man who had felt like a true mate, destined to fill the gaping hole Axel had left. The betrayal felt sharp, physical.

At the boutique, I buried myself in work, a desperate, frantic effort to numb the throbbing pain and confusion. Each fold of fabric, each customer interaction, became a distraction, a way to prevent my mind from spiraling into the abyss of why. The constant movement, the forced smiles, the superficial conversations, they all served as a temporary shield against the crushing reality.

At lunch hour, just as the midday rush began to dwindle, Margie walked up to me, her usually sparkling eyes clouded with concern.

"Anna, you really look bad, girl," she observed gently. "And you've been so quiet the entire day. What's bothering you? You know you can talk to me, right?"

Her kindness, so unexpected in the bustling human world, was a lifeline. I realized I needed someone to talk to, someone physically near to ease my burden, to share the impossible weight I was carrying.

"Thanks, Margie," I managed to say, a little rough. "Right now, I could really use a break. How about we grab some lunch? My treat."

She readily agreed, and we walked to a quiet, unassuming restaurant nearby, specialized in Chinese delicacy, my favorite. We settled into a cozy booth by the window, the soft clinking of chopsticks and quiet murmurs of other diners filling the space. After our dumplings and tofu arrived, steaming gently on the table between us, I started talking, the words tumbling out hesitantly at first, then with increasing urgency, as if a dam had broken.

"There's this guy I met," I began, picking at a dumpling. "His name is Anderson. I... I was pretty sure I was falling for him. Head over heels, actually."

I tried to keep my voice casual, but the tremor in it betrayed my true feelings. "He was so amazing, Margie. Constant texts, calls, he just seemed so invested in our relationship. We had this incredible chemistry."

Margie nodded, listening intently, her chin resting on her hand. "He sounds wonderful. What happened?"

"That's just it," I sighed, looking out the window, unable to meet her gaze. "He was supposed to come to the show, to see me perform. He promised. But he never showed up. And now his phone number isn't active anymore. My messages bounce back, and his calls are blocked."

My voice dropped to a near whisper. "It's like he just vanished. Poof. Gone. I was even supposed to meet his family this weekend. I was so looking forward to it. Now I just feel like such an idiot for trusting him."

I told her the whole episode, unburdening my heart.

She was a silent listener, just what I needed. At the end, Margie squeezed my hand again.

"Look, I know it hurts like hell right now. But you can't let it consume you. Keep a constructive mindset, okay? Don't jump to conclusions, but don't hold your breath either. Wait and see what happens in the next few days. If he's really the amazing guy you say he is, he'll find a way to reach out, even if it takes time. But if he doesn't, then he wasn't worth your amazingness anyway, and you dodged a bullet."

She offered a warm, comforting hug, truly a moment of connection in a world that often felt isolating.