8. Racing Against Time

Marcus’s Point of View

The silence in the house was like a weight crushing my chest. Every corner seemed to scream Ella’s absence, as if the walls themselves were blaming me for the void I had created. Her wedding ring was still in my pocket, cold against my skin, a constant reminder of what I had lost.

The divorce papers, with her firm, decisive signature, remained on the desk, untouched since last night. I couldn’t even look at them for more than a second without feeling like the ground would collapse beneath me. How had I let it come to this? How had I been so foolish?

I couldn’t accept that it was over. I just couldn’t. Ella was my life, my reason for being. I needed to find her, to explain, to beg, to do anything to bring her back. I grabbed my phone, hands trembling, and started calling everyone who might have a clue about where she was.

First, Amanda. The phone rang and rang, then went to voicemail. “Amanda, please, call me back. It’s about Ella. I need to know where she is,” I left the message, my voice hoarse, nearly breaking. I tried Theo. Nothing. Bea, Rowan, even distant contacts, colleagues from the hospital where Ella worked. No one answered. It was as if they had all conspired to leave me in the dark, as if they knew I didn’t deserve answers.

“Someone, please, help me,” I muttered to myself, pacing back and forth in the living room, my heart racing. I couldn’t stay still, couldn’t just accept that Ella was gone forever. I grabbed my car keys, her ring still in my pocket, and rushed out. The hospital. She was Dr. Harper, the pride of that place. If anyone knew where she was, it would be there.

I drove through the streets of Seattle like a madman, ignoring red lights and angry honks. My mind was in pieces, fragments of memories of Ella flashing through: her laughing in our kitchen, preparing the special dinner for our third anniversary that I had promised to make; her hugging me after an exhausting day at the hospital; her sleeping beside me, so serene, so mine. And now? Now I was chasing a shred of hope, praying she was still within my reach.

I arrived at the hospital and parked haphazardly, nearly hitting another car. I ran to the reception, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might explode. “I need to speak with Dr. Ella Harper,” I said to the receptionist, my voice louder than intended. “It’s urgent.”

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with large glasses, looked at me with a confused expression. “Dr. Harper? She’s not here today. I can check the schedule, but—”

“Please, check,” I interrupted, slamming my hand on the counter, impatience taking over. “I’m her husband. I need to know where she is.”

She typed something into the computer, frowning. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any information about her shift today. Maybe you should try calling her?”

“I already tried!” My voice came out as a shout, and a few people in the waiting room glanced over. I took a deep breath, trying to control myself. “I’m sorry. I just… I need to talk to someone who can help me. Dr. Biscop, her department director. He must know something.”

The receptionist hesitated, but something in my expression—probably the raw panic in my eyes—made her relent. “I’ll call Dr. Biscop. Wait a moment.”

The minutes I waited felt like an eternity. I paced in circles in the reception area, hands in my hair, panic growing with every second. What if she was really gone? What if she was in another state, another country? What if I never saw her again? The thought made me feel like I was falling into an endless abyss.

Finally, Dr. Biscop appeared, an older man with a serious but kind expression. “Mr. Carter, right?” he said, adjusting his glasses. “What’s going on? The receptionist said it’s about Dr. Harper.”

“Yes, please, I need to know where she is,” I said, the words tumbling out. “She left home, left her ring, the divorce papers… I don’t know where she is, but she works here. You must know something!”

Dr. Biscop frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “Marcus, I’m not sure if I should—”

“Please!” I interrupted, my voice breaking. “She’s my wife. I messed up, I know, but I love her. I just want a chance to fix this. Tell me where she is.”

He sighed, glancing around as if to ensure no one was listening. “Ella informed me a few days ago that she was leaving the hospital. She accepted an opportunity for a two-year specialization program in Venice, Italy, with the best doctors in obstetrics. She said it was something she needed to do, something personal.”

“Venice?” My voice came out as a whisper, the shock paralyzing me. “Italy? When? When did she leave?”

Dr. Biscop hesitated, and my heart sank even further. “She took a flight this morning. The plane has already left, Marcus. She… she asked me not to tell anyone, but you’re here, and I can see you’re desperate.”

The world spun. The plane had already taken off. Ella was thousands of miles away, out of my reach, taking with her everything I loved. “No,” I muttered, shaking my head. “No, this can’t be happening.” My legs gave out, and I leaned against the wall, trying to breathe. “You’re sure? There’s no way I can talk to her, reach her?”

“Marcus, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softening. “Ella was very clear. She wanted a fresh start. She said she needed to leave some things behind. I don’t know the details, but… maybe it’s best if you respect her decision.”

“Respect?” I laughed, a bitter sound that didn’t even feel like mine. “Respect? She’s my wife! I can’t just let her go like this!” Tears came again, hot and uncontrollable, streaming down my face. “I screwed up, I know, but I love her. I just need a chance.”

Dr. Biscop placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that felt more like pity than comfort. “Sometimes, Marcus, loving someone means letting them go. Ella is a brilliant, strong woman. She knows what she wants. And from what she told me, she needed this. Maybe you should think about what she’s feeling.”

I shook my head, pushing his hand away. “No. I’m not giving up. I’ll find her, even if it’s on the other side of the world.” I stumbled out of the hospital, the cold street air hitting me like a slap. I got into the car and sat there, staring into space, her ring still in my pocket, burning against my skin.

I tried calling her again, knowing it was pointless. The call went straight to voicemail. “Ella, please,” I murmured, my voice breaking, leaving a message I knew she’d never hear. “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve you. But I love you. I’ll always love you. Give me a chance to prove it. Please, come back to me.”

I hung up, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat. My head fell against the steering wheel, and I cried. I cried like a lost man, like someone who knew he’d thrown away the most precious thing in his life. Venice. She was in Venice. So far, so out of reach. But I couldn’t give up. I would find her. Even if I had to cross an ocean, even if I had to spend the rest of my life trying.

Because without Ella, I was nothing.