The Countdown

The tablet in Ethan’s kitchen was beeping right in front of me.  

And under it, a new timer. Red. Counting down from five minutes.

  

00:05:00.

But the beeping wasn’t coming from the tablet.  

It was coming from below.  

My blood went so cold that I couldn’t feel my hands anymore.  

The penthouse was empty. No bomb. No Ethan.  

Just me, in a ruined white dress, standing in the middle of his living room while a new countdown started somewhere I couldn’t see.  

My phone buzzed.  

Unknown number.  

“You picked the wrong door, wife.  

Good thing I like second chances.” 

I threw the phone, it hit the wall and cracked. I didn’t care.  

“Ethan!” My voice ripped out of me. “Ethan!”  

No response .  

Just the beeping sound,non stop. Steady from somewhere down.  

I ran to the balcony doors and pushed them open. The city air hit me, sharp and cold.  

 Lights everywhere, and 8 floors down, traffic, people moving about.

And somewhere in this building, another timer.  

My legs gave out and i slid down the glass door until I was sitting on the floor.  

The white dress pooled around me like blood.  

I had done exactly what David wanted.  

I ran. I chose. I walked into his trap.  

The tablet flickered back to life.  

David.  

Sitting in that interview room. Hands still cuffed. But he had a tablet too, mirroring mine.  

He was smiling.  

“Hi, Sarah,” he said. His voice came through the tablet speaker, calm. Like we were on a video call. “You look tired.”  

“Where is he?” I whispered.  

David tilted his head. “Who? Ethan? Oh. He’s fine. For now.”  

He leaned forward. “The bomb you saw? That was a prop. Movie prop. I rented it. The timer was fake.”  

He smiled wider. “The one that’s real is 8 floors down. In the parking garage. Level B2. In a black SUV. License plate ends in 447.”  

I was already moving.  

“Why?” I choked out as I ran for the stairs.  

“Because I wanted to see what you’d choose,” David said. His voice followed me down the stairwell, echoing off the concrete. “The husband you’re sleeping with, or the man you married.”  

“Fuck you!”  

“Language, Sarah. And also—you have 4 minutes now.”  

The stairwell door slammed behind me.  

B2. Parking garage.  

My heels were useless. I kicked them off halfway down. Bare feet on the cold concrete.  

00:03:40  

The garage was empty. Fluorescent lights buzzed.  

Cars in rows. Black, white, silver.  

And there. At the far end. A black SUV. Plate ending in 447.  

I ran.  

The beeping was louder now. Coming from inside.  

I tried the door,but it was locked.  

The windows were tinted. I couldn’t see inside of it.

“Please,” I said to the car. God “Please.”  

I beat my fists against the glass.  

“Ethan! Ethan, are you in there!”  

No answer.  

Just the beeping sound coming from inside. 

My phone. The cracked one on the floor upstairs. It would have the code. David would have sent it.  

But I didn’t have it.  

Think. Think.  

The garage had a security booth. Maybe there was a crowbar. A hammer. Something.  

I swiftly checked but the booth was locked.  

I picked up a fire extinguisher and swung it . The glass shattered.  

Inside: nothing. No tools. Just a monitor.  

And on the monitor, 16 camera feeds.  

One of them was me. Right now. Barefoot, bleeding from where the glass cut me, my hair falling out of the pins.  

Another feed.  

Interview Room 3. David, watching me.  

Another.  

St. Catherine’s. Empty now. Cops everywhere.  

Another.  

Ethan’s penthouse. Empty.  

And one more.  

A close-up. Inside the SUV.  

Ethan.  

He was in the driver’s seat. Eyes closed with his mouth taped and his wrists bound to the steering wheel.  

And on his lap.  

A box with wires, and that same red timer.  

00:02:55  

He was alive. But he wasn’t moving.  

“Ethan!” I screamed at the monitor. Like he could hear me from it.

David’s voice came through the booth speaker.  

“You found him. Good girl.”  

“Let him go!”  

“I can’t do that,” David said. “Not until you make a choice.”  

“What choice?!”  

“The choice you’ve been avoiding for a year, Sarah.”  

Everywhere went quiet for a second .  

“Do you want to save Ethan? Or do you want to save yourself?”  

“What the hell does that mean?”  

“It means the bomb is voice-activated,” David said. “Simple. It listens for one word. If it hears that word, it disarms.”  

My heart stopped.  

“What word?”  

“The word you never said to me. Not once in five years.”  

He laughed softly. “Say ‘I love you, David.’ Into the car’s Bluetooth. The car’s mic will pick it up and the bomb will stop.”  

I stared at the monitor. At Ethan, unconscious and helpless.  

00:02:10  

“And if I don’t say it?”  

“Then in two minutes, Level B2 becomes a crater. And Ethan with it.”  

David’s voice dropped. “But if you do say it... then you admit it. On record. To me. To the FBI listening in. To the whole world if this leaks.  

That you still love me.”  

I sank to my knees in the broken glass.  

It cut into my palms. I didn’t feel it.  

“Why?” I whispered.  

“Because I need to know,” David said. “After everything. After you left. After him. I need to know if any of it was real.”  

It wasn’t real.  

None of it was real.  

But Ethan was.  

00:01:30  

I stood up. My legs were shaking.  

I walked back to the SUV.  

The driver’s side window was cracked from where I’d hit it.  

I could see Ethan’s face now. Pale. A bruise on his temple.  

“Ethan,” I said. My voice broke. “Ethan, can you hear me?”  

No response from him.  

I put my hand on the glass.  

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.  

The beeping sped up.  

00:01:00  

David’s voice again. Softer this time.  

“You don’t have to do this, Sarah. You can walk away. SWAT will be here in 70 seconds. They can breach it. Maybe.”  

  

“But you and I both know ‘maybe’ isn’t good enough for you.”  

He was right.  

I had spent a year running from him. From what we were.  

And now one sentence was all that stood between Ethan and death.  

One sentence.  

Three words.  

I leaned in close to the cracked window. Close enough that my breath fogged the glass.  

The Bluetooth light on the dashboard was on. Blue. Listening.  

00:00:45  

I closed my eyes.  

I thought of Ethan making coffee.  

I thought of David on our wedding day.  

I thought of every lie I’d told myself to survive.  

And I opened my mouth.  

“I—”  

The garage lights flickered.  

And went out.  

Everywhere was dark.  

Total darkness.  

Except for the red timer on the monitor behind me.  

00:00:30  

“Shit,” David said through the speaker. “Power cut. Backup generator came on”  

The beeping stopped.  

Everywhere went silent.

For one second, I thought it worked. I thought the power cut disarmed it.  

Then the car horn blared. Once.  

And the dashboard lit up.  

A new message on the car’s screen.  

“MANUAL OVERRIDE FAILED. DETONATION IN 20 SECONDS.” 

“David!” I screamed.  

“I didn’t do that!” he shouted. “Sarah, get away from the car! Now!”  

But I couldn’t.  

Because Ethan’s eyes had opened.  

He was looking at me. Through the glass.  

And he was shaking his head. Slow.  

“Don’t.” 

00:00:12  

I put both hands on the glass.  

“I love you,” I said. Not to David. To Ethan.  

“I love you, Ethan.”  

The timer hit 00:00:05.  

00:00:04  

00:00:03  

I closed my eyes and waited for the fire.  

00:00:02  

A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back. Hard.  

I hit the ground and some glass stuck in my back.  

An explosion of light and heat waves.  

Sound that wasn’t sound.  

And then nothing.  

When I opened my eyes, I was on my back in the garage.  

Ms. Reyes was over me. Her face was bleeding.  

“Can you hear me?” she was shouting. “Sarah! Can you hear me!”  

I nodded. My ears were ringing.

And in the air, the smell of metal and gasoline.  

“Ethan?” I tried to sit up. “Ethan?”  

Ms. Reyes held me down. “Don’t move. Medics are coming.”  

I grabbed her shirt. “Was he— did he—”  

She didn’t answer.  

Across the garage, on the wall, a piece of metal was still smoking.  

On it, in black marker.  

David’s handwriting.  

“You said his name.  

Not mine.  

I guess that answers my question, wife.”

Ms. Reyes followed my eyes. Her face went white.  

“Get her out of here,” she yelled to someone. “Now!”