When They Finally Noticed I Was Gone

By midnight, the tropical storm had become a hurricane.

Fallen branches blocked the last turn. I walked the rest of the way in ruined heels, carrying my shoes for the final stretch because the blisters had split.

The kitchen lights were on.

All four of them were around the table, showered and warm, eating breakfast. My sister, Lily, wore our brother's sweatshirt. A bowl of chicken soup steamed beside her toast.

The five of us had rented the house together while Lily and I finished our last year of college. My fiancé, Ethan, our childhood friend, Noah, and my older brother, Owen, were already working nearby. We each had our own room. Sharing the rent with people I trusted had seemed like a good idea.

Lily looked up first. “Claire? Where have you been?”

Ethan's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.

“Were you still on campus?”

I set my shoes by the door. “I called you.”

He pulled out his phone. Owen and Noah did the same.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

“Oh, God.” Ethan stood. “Claire, I'm sorry. Lily couldn't put weight on her ankle. We were trying to get her out before the road flooded. I thought you were with your classmates.”

“Did you ask?”

“No. I should have.” He reached for my arm, then noticed how cold I was. “Why didn't you call again?”

“My phone died.”

Owen rubbed his forehead. “We should've checked. That's on us.”

“I honestly thought you'd already left,” Noah said.

They sounded sorry. I wanted to believe that would matter for longer than a minute.

Then Lily set down her spoon.

“I didn't know you were waiting, Claire. I thought someone had told you. If I'd known...”

Her voice broke. Owen turned toward her immediately.

“Hey. None of this is your fault.”

Ethan was still beside me, but he glanced back at her. “We'll make it up to you, okay? Dinner this weekend. Anywhere you want.”

“I spent the night in a shelter.”

“I know. And I'm sorry.” He lowered his voice. “But you're home now. Lily's already upset. Can we talk about this after you've had some sleep?”

Owen nodded. “You've always been the one who can handle a crisis. We weren't thinking.”

They'd thought about getting Lily home before the roads flooded. They'd remembered her ankle and made her soup. None of them had thought to call me.

Noah pushed an empty bowl across the table. “There's soup on the stove.”

I lifted the lid. A few noodles lay in a thin film of broth at the bottom. Lily's bowl was full.

Before the gala, my professor had called to tell me my final design project had won the college's Emerging Designer Award. I'd posted the email in our group chat.

Ethan had sent a party emoji. Owen had promised photographs afterward. Noah had offered to bring his good camera.

Nobody asked about the award now.

Lily had hosted the gala. Her flowers stood in a vase by the sink, her graduation cap drying on a clean towel.

Ethan pulled out a chair for me. “Come on. Sit down. I'll order something.”

“I'm going upstairs.”

“Claire. I said we'd make it up to you.”

I was too tired to explain why dinner would not fix this.

In my room, I plugged in my phone. My messages from the auditorium were still there, sent before the battery died.

I'd told the wedding venue to cancel our August booking.

The next email was from Professor Bennett.

At the bottom was one final line:

If you accept the offer, Northline expects you to report within one week.

Outside my door, Owen was still telling Lily not to blame herself.

Ethan said I was only upset because I had spent the night cold and wet. After some sleep, I would be fine.

They sounded so certain.

Certain that no matter what happened, I would do what I always did—swallow the hurt, pull myself together, and come back downstairs as if nothing had changed.

I opened Professor Bennett’s email.

Then I clicked Accept.