The test

Chapter 16

I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, my hands trembling. My heart was racing so fast I felt it in my throat. The word on my phone had pushed me forward, but I was still unsure. Come. Was it Damien? Was it someone else? My mind spun, every possible scenario playing out, none of them reassuring. I shoved the coat off my shoulders and forced myself to think. First I needed answers. I needed proof. I needed certainty.

I dug through my purse until I found a crumpled bill and grabbed my keys. I did not wait to think. I drove out into the quiet streets, the engine roaring too loudly, the tires echoing on the asphalt. I went straight to the pharmacy. My hands shook as I pushed open the door. The fluorescent lights made my skin crawl. I moved quickly to the aisle with the tests, trying to act calm, trying not to draw attention.

I grabbed a pack of pregnancy tests, checking the box like I could find answers written in the print. I held it close to my chest and walked to the counter. The cashier gave me a polite smile. I tried to force one back, but my lips felt tight. I handed over the money, my fingers brushing against the small plastic of the test. The cashier did not notice my trembling, did not ask questions. I felt a small, fleeting relief.

Back in the car, I locked the doors and tore open the box. I could feel the cold of the plastic through my fingers. I read the instructions over and over, trying to steady myself. I went to the bathroom at home, my heart hammering as I tore open the packet and readied the test. Every second stretched out painfully. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, tried to make the world quiet, but it would not stop. The pounding in my chest, the shaking of my hands, the sweat sliding down my back, all of it refused to relent.

The test sat in front of me, tiny, silent, waiting. I stared at it, felt the seconds crawling, felt the panic rising, clawing up my throat. I could not stop myself. I watched the lines form. My stomach dropped. My hands fell to my lap. I could not move.

Positive.

I had expected fear. I had expected confusion. I had not expected the flood that hit me all at once. My knees buckled and I sank to the floor, the test clutched in my hands, tears burning my eyes. Positive. My mind raced. Damien. The last time. The only time. The thought made my chest tighten even more. He had vanished. He had left me without warning, without explanation. And now this. I could not breathe. I could not think. My thoughts tumbled over one another, chaotic and relentless.

I had to reach him. I had to know. I pulled my phone from my pocket, fingers shaking. I typed his name over and over, trying every number, every message, every method I could think of. Nothing. No answer. Voicemail after voicemail, unread messages, no response. Panic twisted tighter in my chest. He had disappeared. He had left me to face this alone.

I had to try someone else. Marco. Maybe he knew something. Maybe he could help. I called him. Once. Twice. Three times. I left messages, each one more desperate than the last. Each one begging for some shred of information, some clue, some indication that I was not completely alone in this.

He did not answer.

I paced the mansion, phone pressed to my ear, waiting, hoping, praying. The silence was deafening. Every moment without him felt like an eternity. I felt the walls closing in, the panic growing, the fear consuming me from the inside. I was alone. Completely alone.

I sank onto the couch, clutching the test like a lifeline. I could not move. I could not speak. I could not think beyond the storm inside my head. I felt trapped by my own thoughts, by the absence of the man who had consumed my mind, by the reality of what I now faced alone.

I tried to focus, tried to think logically. I had to plan. I had to understand. I had to do something. But every thought led back to him. Every scenario led back to Damien. Where was he? Why had he vanished? Would he even care about this? Would he ever come back?

Hours passed. I did not notice. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the apartment grew dark. I did not turn on the lights. I could not. Every shadow seemed alive. Every sound made me jump. I could not stop thinking about Damien, about the test, about the emptiness that now pressed against me with such unbearable weight.

Finally, I forced myself to my feet. I needed answers. I needed action. I could not sit here, frozen, consumed by fear. I had to find someone, anyone, who could help me, guide me, tell me what to do next. I grabbed my bag and left the apartment, the test tucked carefully inside.

I went to Marco’s office first. I pounded on the door, calling his name. He appeared, startled, and for a moment relief surged through me. But his eyes hardened almost immediately.

“Ivy,” he said, his voice tight, controlled, “what are you doing here?”

“Where is Damien,” I said, my voice breaking. “Has something happened. I need answers.”

He shook his head, his face hardening. “Ivy, now is not the time.”

“I don’t care. I need to know. Please. It is important.” My hands trembled as I reached into my bag, pulling out the test.

He looked at it, his eyes widening for the briefest moment, then narrowing. “Ivy.This shouldn't have happened .”

“ Where is he, Marco? Where is Damien?” My voice rose, desperation cutting through every word. “Why has he disappeared? Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”

Marco stepped back, shaking his head. “I cannot help you with that. I cannot.”

“I don’t care. Please. I am alone, and I need someone who knows something.”

He hesitated, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. I could see the war waging behind the mask of control he always wore. Then he said it, cold, sharp, final.

“I cannot. Go home. Do not do anything rash. You are on your own with this.”

I stared at him, disbelief and panic twisting together. “On my own? How am I supposed to face this alone? I have no idea where he is. No idea if he is safe. No idea if…” My voice cracked, choking on the words.

Marco shook his head. “Ivy, you cannot handle this. Not yet. You need to wait. You need to think.”

“Wait?” I shouted, frustration and fear bursting out of me. “I cannot wait. I cannot sit here while he is gone. He left me. He left me like this. How am I supposed to breathe?”

He did not answer. He only turned away, motioning toward the door. “Go. Go home. Do not contact me again tonight.”

I felt my stomach drop. I felt the walls closing in. I felt everything I had been holding back break apart. I turned and left, stumbling down the steps, my heart pounding, my mind racing, my thoughts chaotic. The test burned in my bag, a silent scream I could not escape.

Back in the car, I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I did not know where to go. I did not know what to do. I only knew I could not stay still. I drove through the city, aimless, frantic, trying to find some clue, some sign, some trace of Damien.

I tried calling again. Still nothing. I sent messages, each one more desperate than the last. No answer. My mind refused to settle. I felt my chest tightening, my thoughts spinning, the panic twisting sharper with every passing minute.

Hours passed. I did not notice. The streets became empty, the lights flickering, shadows stretching long and strange across the pavement. I could not stop thinking about Damien, about the test, about what the future might hold. I could not stop imagining every possible scenario, every possible outcome.

I pulled over, gasping for breath. I had to think. I had to act. I could not wait for answers to come to me. I had to find him. I had to confront him. I had to demand explanations. But where? How? I did not even know where to start.

The phone buzzed again. My heart jumped. I grabbed it, hands shaking. A new message, this time from a number I did not recognize. One word.

Wait.

I froze, staring at the screen. Wait. No context. No explanation. No signature. My pulse slammed against my ribs. My stomach twisted into knots.

I wanted to call back. I wanted to run to the location. I wanted answers now. But I did not know if it was a warning or an invitation. I did not know if I was walking into something I could survive.

I gripped the test in my hand, my knuckles white. The reality hit me harder than anything else. Positive. Alone. Confused. Terrified. And now a message that promised something but threatened nothing, a single word that made my blood run cold and my heart pound faster than ever.

I could not move. I could not think. I could not breathe. I only stared at the phone, the word glaring back at me.

Wait.

The night pressed in around the car. The streets were empty. The city quiet, almost lifeless. The test in my hand felt heavier than anything I had ever held. I realized that no matter what I did next, no matter where I went, no matter who I called or what I tried, I was stepping into the unknown. I had no map, no guide, no assurance that Damien was safe or that this was even his doing.

And yet I knew I could not stop. I could not turn back. I could not ignore the message, could not abandon the frantic, desperate hope that it held some truth.

I took a deep breath and started the engine. The road ahead stretched dark and empty. Every passing second felt like a test, every shadow a question, every turn a choice I did not know if I could survive.

I decided to. go back hope in hopes that he will come back soon.