4. The Silence She Left Behind

Ethan's POV

I woke up knowing something was wrong.

It wasn’t noise that pulled me from sleep. It was the lack of it. The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that presses against your chest and makes it hard to breathe. Lena was never silent in the mornings. She moved softly, yes, but she existed. I always felt her before I saw her.

I reached out without opening my eyes.

The bed was empty.

Cold.

My eyes snapped open and I sat up, irritation flickering first. She was angry. That was it. She was making a point. Lena had always been stubborn when she was hurt. I ran a hand over my face and exhaled hard.

“Lena,” I called.

Nothing.

The irritation shifted into something sharper. Unease. I swung my legs off the bed and stood. Her pillow was gone. Not tossed aside. Gone. That made my chest tighten.

I moved into the bathroom. Empty counters. No makeup. No toothbrush. Even her hair ties were missing. The mirror reflected a man who suddenly didn’t look in control anymore.

“No,” I muttered.

I walked faster then. The closet was next. My side untouched. Her side stripped bare. Dresses gone. Shoes missing. The space where she had existed was empty in a way that felt deliberate. Careful.

She hadn’t stormed out.

She had planned this.

My heart started pounding harder than it had when I handed her the divorce papers. That moment had been about power. This moment was about fear.

I took the stairs two at a time. “Lena,” I called again, louder.

The house answered me with silence.

The kitchen was spotless. No coffee. No note. No sign that she had ever lived here. The living room felt wrong without her presence. Like a body without a heartbeat.

She didn’t cry her way out.

She erased herself.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed her number.

Unavailable.

I tried again.

Nothing.

A sharp wave of anger surged through me. She disconnected it. She cut me off completely. While I slept in our bed, believing I still had control, she had disappeared.

The front door opened and Ryan walked in like he owned the place.

“You look like hell,” he said.

“She’s gone,” I snapped.

He froze for half a second. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know. Her phone is dead. Her things are gone. She left.”

Ryan exhaled slowly, too slowly. “You wanted the divorce.”

“Not like this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How did you expect it to look?”

I didn’t answer because the truth made me sick.

I had expected her to stay. To cry. To wait. To give me time to cool off. I had expected her to still be there when I was ready to deal with the mess I created.

“She didn’t fight,” I said quietly. “She didn’t beg.”

Ryan smirked faintly. “That’s pride.”

“That wasn’t pride,” I snapped. “That was final.”

I started pacing, the weight in my chest growing heavier with every step. The silence was screaming at me now. It was everywhere. In every room she once filled.

“She looked at me like I was already gone,” I said. “Like she was done with me.”

Ryan stepped closer. “You did what you had to do.”

The memories hit me without warning.

The emails.

The screenshots.

The messages sent from an unknown address weeks ago. Lena’s name. Conversations that didn’t include me. A hotel receipt with her name on it. A photo taken from the wrong angle at the right time.

Lena with another man.

The betrayal had burned through me like poison.

I had gone to Ryan first. My best friend. The one person I trusted enough to show the proof.

I remember his anger. His shock. The way he swore under his breath and said he always knew something was off.

I didn’t want to believe it. God, I didn’t. Lena had been my world since we were kids. She knew me better than anyone. But the evidence felt undeniable.

Then Maya. Lena’s best friend. Crying. Saying she tried to stop her. Saying Lena was confused. That she didn’t know how to tell me. That she was afraid of hurting me.

I drowned in it.

The doubt. The humiliation. The rage.

I imagined everyone laughing behind my back. The powerful Ethan Carter fooled by his loyal wife.

I wanted answers.

But pride won.

I didn’t want to hear excuses. I didn’t want to hear lies. I wanted control.

So I chose the cruelest option.

Divorce papers instead of questions. Power instead of vulnerability.

“You still believe she cheated,” Ryan said carefully.

I stopped pacing.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You saw the proof.”

“I saw something,” I said. “I never heard her side.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. “And now you don’t have to.”

That was supposed to comfort me.

It didn’t.

I remembered the way she looked at me when she asked if this was what I really wanted. Not desperate. Not weak. Just steady. Hurt. Proud.

Guilt twisted in my chest.

She could have screamed. She could have begged. She could have exposed everything in front of Ryan.

She didn’t. She signed. She left.

“She didn’t take anything expensive,” I muttered. “Just clothes.”

Ryan frowned. “So?”

“So she didn’t care about the money,” I snapped. “She cared about leaving.”

I walked to the front door and stared at the empty driveway. No car. No trace. No Lena.

The power I had felt when she signed the papers drained out of me completely.

In its place was something cold and sharp.

Regret.

I wanted to hurt her because I was hurt. I wanted to punish her because I felt betrayed.

Instead, I pushed her so far away that I might never find her again.

“What if we’re wrong,” I said quietly.

Ryan stiffened. “We’re not.”

But his voice was too quick.

Too defensive.

I grabbed my keys. “I’m finding her.”

He stepped in front of me. “Give her time.”

“No,” I said “She didn’t leave to cool off. She left to disappear.”

I shoved past him and stepped outside the morning air hit me hard for the first time since I made her sign those papers I felt exposed.

Small.

I stared at the road at the space where her car should have been and something inside me cracked.

If Lena was innocent.

If she had been manipulated.

If I destroyed my marriage without even listening.

Then I wasn’t the victim.

I was the villain.

And the silence she left behind was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.