That thing you called a wife

Adrian POV

I woke up to my phone ringing loudly beside me.

I groaned and reached across the bedside table without opening my eyes, hoping that whoever was calling this early had better have a good reason for disrupting my sleep.

I answered and brought the phone to my ear.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't curse you out."

There was a brief silence on the other end.

"Excuse me?"

I frowned. That wasn't my PA's voice.

I opened my eyes and pulled the phone away to look at the screen. It was an unknown number.

I cleared my throat and brought it back to my ear.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"It's alright, sir. I'm calling from the Central Police Station."

The last bit of sleep left my body immediately.

"Is there a problem?"

"We got this number from your wife's phone."

I sat up straight in bed.

"My wife's phone?"

"Yes, sir."

I waited for her to continue. She took a slow breath before she spoke again.

"We're sorry to inform you that your wife passed away this morning in a car accident."

The room went completely quiet.

"What?"

"I'm very sorry, sir."

"No." The word left my mouth before I even thought about it. "No, you've got the wrong person."

"Are you Mr. Adrian Hayes?"

"Yes, but..."

"Is your wife's name Aysha Hayes?"

My mouth opened. Nothing came out for a moment.

"Sir, are you still there?"

"That's impossible."

I looked beside me. Mira lay asleep with her back turned to me, the blanket pulled up to her shoulder. I quickly looked away and pushed the thought aside.

"My wife is right here," I said. "She's in this house."

The officer didn't answer immediately. When she did, her voice was gentler than before.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir. We recovered her phone at the scene. We would like you to come down to the station and collect her personal belongings whenever you're ready. I will send the address to this number."

"No. Listen to me." My voice came out louder than I meant it to. "You've made a mistake. My wife did not die in an accident. She's here."

"I understand this is difficult to hear, sir. Please take your time. Call us back if you have any questions."

"Where did this supposedly happen?" I asked, my hand tightening around the phone.

"On the highway near the east bridge, sir. Around four in the morning. A witness called it in."

"Four in the morning." I repeated the words slowly, like saying them out loud would make them make more sense. "My wife was asleep in this house at four in the morning."

"I understand your frustration, sir. I can only tell you what was reported to us this morning. The vehicle involved was registered under her full name and details."

"Then check again," I said, my voice rising. "Check the registration again, because you clearly have the wrong information written down somewhere in your files."

"We will look into it further, sir. I am very sorry for the confusion this has caused you."

"I'm telling you, you've got this wrong."

"I'm sorry, sir."

The call ended before I could say another word.

I stared at the screen until it went dark in my hand. A second later my phone slipped from my fingers and landed somewhere on the floor. I didn't even hear it hit the carpet.

"Baby?"

I turned around slowly.

Mira had pushed herself up on the bed, blinking against the morning light. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

"What's wrong? Who was that?"

I didn't answer her. My mind was already somewhere else, running through everything the woman on the phone had just said. None of it made sense to me.

I threw the blanket off and climbed out of bed.

"Adrian?"

I ignored her and walked straight for the door. My legs felt heavier than they should have, like my body already knew something my mind was refusing to accept.

"Adrian, talk to me. What happened?"

I kept walking. My steps echoed through the hallway as I headed straight for the master bedroom, the one Aysha had been sleeping in since I told her to move out of ours weeks ago.

I pushed the door open without knocking.

"Aysha."

No answer.

I stepped further inside quickly and checked the bathroom. Nothing.

I checked the balcony next. Nothing there either.

"Aysha!" I called her name louder this time, my voice cracking in a way I wasn't used to.

Still nothing.

I turned toward the closet and pulled both doors open at once.

Half the space inside was empty. The dresses that used to hang there in neat rows were gone. The shelves that once held her shoes and bags were almost completely bare. A few empty hangers swung gently from the movement of the door, clinking softly against each other in the silence.

I stood there without moving for a long, heavy moment, staring at the empty space like it would somehow fill itself back up again if I looked hard enough.

Then I rushed to the drawers and pulled them open one after another.

Empty.

I checked the small box on her dresser where she kept her jewelry.

Gone.

I looked under the bed for her suitcase, the one she always used whenever we traveled together.

Gone as well.

I checked her nightstand next, the drawer where she used to keep her old photographs and the small notebook she wrote in most nights before bed. That was gone too. Even the perfume bottle that always sat on top of the dresser, the one she wore every single day, was missing.

Someone had planned this carefully. Someone had gone through this room piece by piece and left nothing behind that would tell me where she'd gone or why she'd left in the first place.

I slowly closed my eyes and shook my head.

"No," I whispered to myself. "No, no, no."

My breathing grew uneven. I opened my eyes and looked around the room again, taking it all in properly this time. It suddenly looked too clean. Too neat. Like someone had gone through every corner of it and erased every trace that she had ever lived there at all.

I clenched my fist so tightly that my nails dug into my palm.

"Fuck!"

My hand slammed into the wall beside me. The picture frame hanging next to it rattled hard and nearly fell. Pain shot through my knuckles immediately, sharp and hot, but I barely registered it.

Behind me, I heard hurried footsteps filling the hallway.

Mira appeared in the doorway, out of breath, her robe hanging loosely off one shoulder.

"Baby!" She rushed toward me, her eyes moving quickly from my bleeding hand to the small dent I had just put in the wall. "What is going on this morning? You're scaring me right now."

I didn't answer her right away. I was still trying to piece together how any of this could be possible. The officer said Aysha died in a car accident this morning. But if that was true, then who cleared out this entire closet before it happened? Who packed her jewelry and her suitcase and left this room looking like nobody had ever lived in it?

"Adrian, say something." Mira grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at her. "You're bleeding. Let me see your hand."

I pulled away from her.

"The police called," I said, my voice flat and distant. "They said Aysha is dead. A car accident, they said."

Mira's face shifted for a second, something flickering behind her eyes that I couldn't quite place. It was gone before I could study it any further.

"What? That's not possible," she said. "She was here last night."

"I know that." I ran my good hand through my hair. "That's exactly what I told them on the phone."

"So it's a mix up then. Someone probably stole her identity card or something like that. These things happen all the time. People make careless mistakes, especially when they're rushing through paperwork this early in the morning."

"Then explain this." I gestured toward the empty closet, the bare drawers, the missing suitcase. "Explain why her room looks like she packed up and left in the middle of the night."

Mira followed my gaze, her mouth opening slightly as she took in the empty space for the first time.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Maybe she just left on her own. Maybe she got tired of everything and decided to walk out. That would make more sense than her being dead, wouldn't it?"

I wanted to believe that. I wanted it so badly that my chest actually loosened for a second at the thought of it. Aysha leaving me was something I could live with. It was something I had honestly expected for weeks now, ever since I signed those divorce papers and left them in my study for her to find eventually.

But something about the timing still made my stomach twist.

"She left last night," I said slowly, thinking out loud now. "And this morning the police call to say she died in a car accident. Same night."

"Adrian, you're not making any sense right now."

"I know I'm not." I pressed my uninjured hand against my forehead. "None of this is making any sense to me either."

I walked past Mira and back into the hallway, my mind racing through every possibility I could think of. Maybe the officer really did have the wrong number. Maybe there was another woman named Aysha Hayes somewhere in this city and this was all one massive coincidence. I almost laughed at how desperate that sounded, even inside my own head.

Mira followed close behind me, still holding her robe shut with one hand.

"Where are you going now?"

"I need to call that station back," I said. "I need to know exactly what happened to her."

"And if it's true?" she asked. "If she really is gone, what then?"

I stopped walking and turned to face her. The question hit somewhere I wasn't ready for, and for a moment I didn't know how to answer it honestly. Twelve years of marriage, even one built on nothing but a clause in my father's will, still had to mean something. Didn't it?

"I don't know," I admitted quietly.

Mira's expression hardened slightly, though she tried to cover it with concern.

"You loved her," she said. It wasn't really a question.

"I married her because I had to," I said. "That's all it ever was, Mira."

"Then why does it look like your whole world is falling apart right now?"

I didn't have an answer for that either. I turned away from her and kept walking toward my study, where my phone charger sat on the desk beside a second phone I rarely used. My hand throbbed with every step, blood still trickling slowly from my knuckles, but I barely noticed it anymore.

"Adrian, stop walking away from me," Mira called, her voice cracking slightly. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're actually thinking right now."

"I don't know what I'm thinking, Mira," I said without turning around. "That's the problem. Nothing about this morning makes any sense to me."

"Maybe you should sit down first. Let me look at your hand before you make it worse."

"I don't care about my hand."

"Well I do," she said, her voice softer now. "Please, Adrian."

I stopped in the middle of the hallway but didn't turn to face her.

"I need to find out where she is," I said. "Alive or not, I need to know."

Behind me, Mira's footsteps stopped completely.

"Baby!"

I turned around one last time.

Her eyes moved from my bleeding hand to the hole in the wall.

"What is going on this morning?" she asked, her voice sharper now, almost accusing.

"And why are you so desperate looking for that thing you called a wife?"