ROWAN “Come on… pick up.” I stared at my phone, leg bouncing hard enough that the desk chair creaked in a steady rhythm.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Then the call dropped into silence.
I frowned and hit redial, pressing the phone tighter against my ear.
“Pick up… please.” Still nothing.
I pulled it away and sighed.
“This is the sixth time,” I muttered, staring at Kelvin’s name on the screen.
“Where the hell are you?” Today wasn’t ordinary.
Today was the day the final review of my research project went live—months of late nights, and the low-grade panic that lived under my ribs while I waited for results that could change everything.
Kelvin knew exactly how much it mattered.
He’d promised we’d check the result together.
He’d even joked that if I froze at the last second, he’d click the button for me while I covered my eyes.
The memory pulled a small smile from me before it faded again, leaving the familiar tightness in my chest.
Why wasn’t he answering?
I almost dialed a seventh time, then stopped myself.
What if he was driving?
The last thing I wanted was to distract him on the road.
“No… calm down, Rowan,” I whispered, rubbing my forehead until the skin warmed under my palm.
“He’s probably on his way.” That had to be it.
Kelvin wasn’t the type to break promises.
I set the phone face-down on the desk and turned back to the laptop.
The portal waited, cursor blinking in the login field..
Except my hands shook so badly I mistyped the password on the first try, the letters scrambling under my fingers.
“Seriously?” I let out a nervous laugh and typed it again.
This time it worked.
My heartbeat climbed with every second the page took to load.
“Come on, Rowan,” I whispered to myself.
“You’ve got this.
You worked your ass off for this.” I clicked into the research portal.
The screen refreshed.
And there it was—the View Result button.
I swallowed hard.
My hand rested on the mouse, hovering.
I knew I’d done the work.
I knew I’d given the project everything.
So why did the thought of clicking feel like stepping off a ledge with no idea what waited below?
“If Kelvin were here,” I mumbled with a weak smile, “he would’ve clicked it for me.” The thought was enough.
I drew one long breath, held it until my lungs burned, and pressed down.
The page refreshed.
For a second I forgot how to breathe.
My eyes scanned the screen once.
Twice.
The words didn’t change.
“No…” I leaned closer, the edge of the desk pressing into my ribs.
“No way…” My hands flew to my mouth.
“I…” I passed.
I actually passed.
“Oh my God…” Tears blurred the numbers before I fully registered that I was crying.
A laugh broke out of me, then another, until I was laughing and crying at the same time, the sound messy and too loud in the quiet room.
“I did it!” I shoved the chair back so hard it rolled and struck the wall with a dull thud.
“I freaking did it!” I grabbed the phone without thinking.
I needed to tell him.
He’d be just as ridiculous about it as I was—probably louder.
I tapped his name and called again.
There was no answer.
The smile on my face slipped a fraction.
“He must still be driving,” I told myself, nodding once as if the motion could make it true.
“Yeah… that’s probably it.” I slipped the phone into my pocket, the residual smile still there despite the small hollow of disappointment settling under my ribs.
— — — — A few hours later the excitement had drained out of the apartment.
I sat on the edge of my bed, phone clutched tight enough that the edges dug into my palm.
The result page still glowed on the laptop across the room—proof that today should have been one of the happiest of my life.
Instead every thought circled back to Kelvin.
I had lost count of how many times I’d tried to reach him.
Every single one went straight to silence.
“Where are you?” I whispered, staring at his contact photo.
A few hours ago I’d been certain he was stuck in traffic or running late.
Now the certainty had curdled into something else.
This wasn’t like him.
He didn’t vanish on days that mattered—especially not on a day he’d promised to share with me.
My chest tightened.
“No…” I shook my head hard, as if I could physically push the thought away.
“Don’t think like that.” Nothing bad had happened.
It couldn’t have.
Still, the uneasy weight in my stomach refused to lift.
“I have to check on him.” I changed quickly, pulling on the first clean clothes I found, grabbed my keys, and left the apartment before the spiral could deepen.
The drive to Kelvin’s house stretched longer than usual.
Late-afternoon light filtered through the windshield in warm streaks, but it did nothing to loosen the knot under my ribs.
My hands stayed locked on the wheel as I silently hoped he was okay and that nothing was wrong.
When I finally turned into his driveway, the sight of his car parked outside sent a rush of relief so strong my shoulders dropped.
I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Thank God…” I climbed out and hurried to the front door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Kelvin!” No answer.
I knocked harder, the sound louder this time.
“Kelvin!
It’s me!” There was still nothing.
I glanced back at the car, frowning.
“If your car is here… where are you?” Maybe he’d gone out with someone.
Maybe he’d taken a taxi and left the car behind.
The possibilities piled up, none of them satisfying, all of them slightly off.
There was no point standing on the porch inventing stories while the quiet house stared back at me.
A small, private smile tugged at my mouth despite everything.
“I’ll just surprise him instead.” Kelvin always left the spare key in the same flower pot beside the porch.
I’d teased him about the terrible hiding spot more times than I could count.
Today I was quietly grateful he’d never changed it.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The house was quiet.
“Kelvin?” Nothing answered.
I closed the door behind me slowly.
“Guess he’s really not home.” With a soft sigh I headed for the kitchen, thinking I might as well grab a drink while I waited.
The refrigerator hummed softly when I opened it.
I took a bottle of juice, then reached for a glass from the cabinet.
That was when the two dirty glasses on the counter caught my eye.
I smiled without thinking.
“He must’ve had someone over before leaving.” The thought lasted only a second before a quieter one replaced it.
If he left… why hadn’t they washed the glasses?
I stared at them, an uncomfortable pressure settling under my ribs.
The residue at the bottoms looked recent.
Then a muffled sound drifted through the house.
I froze.
At first, I thought I’d imagined it—some trick of the quiet.
But then it came again, low and breathless, coming from upstairs.
My pulse slowed.
The sound returned, clearer this time.
It was definitely a voice.
Every nerve went sharp.
Without deciding to, I was already moving, taking the stairs two at a time.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw his bedroom door standing slightly ajar.
A thin strip of light cut across the hallway floor.
I pushed it open.
Time stopped.
My mind went completely blank.
“K… Kelvin…?” The words barely made it out.
I stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the scene before me.
“What…” “…what am I looking at?”