ONE

June

Water dripped somewhere in the distance, steady and irritating. Voices floated around outside, blurred into background noise. None of it mattered. Not compared to the one thing I wanted to hear.

My husband’s footsteps.

I pressed closer to the window. The flowers Mark and I planted together brushed against the sill, filling the air with the faint scent of jasmine. I reached out and touched their petals. Soft. Real. Unlike the growing terror that he’d simply vanished.

Where was he? I have been waiting. The soup I prepared stayed cold on the table.

“Call Sarah,” I said into my phone.

“Calling Sarah,” the AI responded.

After a long buzzing, she finally answered.

“Hey, June.”

“Hey. Have you seen Mark? Maybe he stopped by with your dog or… I don’t know… football with Tyler?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him in a week.” She paused. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ve been calling him nonstop. He isn’t answering. I’m worried.” I say, my voice trembling.

“Relax, doll,” she said between bites — probably an apple. “He’s probably out drinking.”

“Mark doesn’t drink,” I muttered. “He only drinks water.”

“Fine. Smoking then. Men either smoke or drink. It gotta be one of the two, right?”

“He doesn’t smoke anymore. He quit because I hate the smell.” I pointed out. 

“Then he’ll be back,” she said gently. “He’s a good guy.”

“I’m going to look for him.” I stated. “I'm worried that something bad has happened to him.”

“And I’m coming with you,” she said. A door opened on her end. “Can’t lose my blind friend.”

The doorbell rang minutes later. I wheeled myself toward it and opened the door.

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” she sighed. “We can’t file a missing person report yet.”

“But we can look,” I said, already grabbing my cane, boots, and jacket. “Just support me.” I took his picture with me as well in case someone saw him.

We went everywhere — cafés, parks, every place we’d ever gone together. Nothing. Not a trace. People say they have never seen him before. I can't believe that.

People looked at the photo like they’d never seen him and then at us and shook their heads like we are some lunatics.

But I knew him. I touched him. Slept beside him. I loved him. I even fucked him.

“You believe me, right?” I asked as we sat on a cold bench by the train station.

“Well…” she hesitated. “He always felt… weird. We never stayed for dinner. Maybe he ran away.”

“He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” I snapped.

“I believe you, June.” She squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll keep looking.”

But that night, hope dissolved into dread. I couldn't sleep at all. I stayed up all night listening for familiar footsteps and that soft baritone saying he got caught up in traffic except it never came.

By dawn, I was at the police station ready to file my report.

The officer studied the picture, then my face.

“What’s his full name?”

“Mark Lawson. He’s my husband.”

He typed for a while. “The database shows no one with that name.”

“Check again,” I demanded. “Please.”

He tried. Again. And again. Then he sighed.

“How did you two meet?”

“In the park. I was lost. He helped me with my navigation problem. He said he had no family but our marriage worked.”

“No marriage certificate?”

“We married legally,” I insisted. “He keeps the documents. I have pictures.”

“Ma’am…” he exhaled. “You may have been duped.”

“That’s impossible.” Panic crawled into my throat. “He never asked me for money — he provides for us.”

“Then maybe he left because he couldn’t handle your condition.”

The words hit harder than any slap.

“He would never do that.” I whispered.

“We’ll see what we can do,” he muttered — then tossed the report straight into the trash. I could hear the sharp thud of the paper into the trashcan. I sighed, tears threatening to fall as I picked up my bag and cane and walked away.

Days blurred together. A week and five days. And nothing, not even a peep. It was like he vanished into thin air.

Hope began to rot inside me. Nothing felt good anymore.

Sarah knocked on my door frantically and when I didn't answer, she turned the knob.

“You won’t believe this!” Sarah burst in. “Good news!”

“What?” I muttered, drinking straight from a tequila bottle. I regard her with disinterest. 

“I contacted someone about your case— she works with the CIA. She can help track him.”

The bottle slipped from my hand and shattered. I got up, my eyes wide with renewed hope.

“He’ll be found,” Sarah whispered and hugged me. I couldn't contain my joy. I'll see him again.

I showered. Changed into a nice dress he got me. I tried to breathe. Hope comes alive in my chest again. I can finally breathe.

“I haven’t taken my medication yet!” I yelled. “It’s in the cabinet.”

“This container?” Sarah asked.

“I guess. Mark sorts my pills.” I shrugged. “He even made a divider so I can distinguish between one for my legs and for my eyes.”

Silence. I dropped my toothbrush and listened for her footsteps.

“Babe…” her voice cracked. “This isn’t medication for your eyesight.”

“What?” I breathed out. I am confused right now.

“These aren’t yours. They can damage eyesight and bones if taken long-term.”

My heart stopped. I can't deny that Sarah is a pharmacist and she knows her job pretty well.

“He’s been giving you the wrong drugs on purpose.” She yelled.

The world tilted. Bile forms in my throat. I could taste the bitterness.

“He—Mark—he wouldn’t—” I trembled, my hands clutching the sink tightly.

“He fucking did, June,” she shouted. “He’s been poisoning you.”

I grabbed the chair as the realization crushed me. I let gravity pull me down to the floor. 

My husband didn’t disappear unintentionally. 

He left me.