“So… that’s it?” she asked, her voice low, struggling to keep the disappointment out of it.
The clerk inclined his head with genuine sympathy.
“I’m afraid so.
Your assigned partner will be delivered to your registered device before midnight.”
For a long moment Lena simply stood there, unable to move, her legs heavy and having lost all strength.
The thick folder she had carried so carefully that morning suddenly felt unbearably heavy in her arms.
Two years of applications, appeals, supporting documents, and endless hope had come to nothing.
Eventually she gathered the file against her chest, thanked the clerk out of habit more than intention, and walked out of the building.
The afternoon bustle greeted her the moment the glass doors slid open, yet the city no longer felt the same.
The sidewalks remained crowded with people waiting anxiously for their notifications.
Some couples clung to one another as though holding on tightly enough might convince fate to spare them; others tried to laugh away their fear, exchanging nervous jokes that fooled neither of them.
Here and there, tears had already begun to fall as reality settled over those whose applications had also been denied.
Lena hardly noticed any of it.
Her thoughts remained fixed on one person: Nathan.
He had promised they would face whatever happened together.
Surely they could find another solution.
Surely this wasn’t the end.
She slipped her phone from her coat pocket before she had even reached the corner of the street and immediately dialed his number.
The call rang several times before the familiar automated voice informed her that it had been redirected to voicemail.
She tried again, and it was just the same all over again.
She slightly frowned.
Nathan rarely ignored her calls.
Assuming he simply hadn’t heard the phone, she tried once again and once more it rang unanswered.
The same response echoed.
Voicemail.
A third attempt produced exactly the same result.
A quiet uneasiness settled deep in her stomach.
“Nathan…” she murmured, staring at the screen.
Then she remembered what he had told her before they parted that morning.
He had planned to spend the afternoon at their apartment waiting for her.
Perhaps he had silenced his phone while preparing whatever surprise he had hinted at over breakfast.
The thought eased some of the tension tightening inside her chest, and a small smile returned to her lips.
Across the street, she raised a hand to hail a passing taxi, climbed into the back seat, and pulled the door shut behind her.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Westbrook Apartments, please.”
The taxi pulled smoothly into traffic, weaving through the busy afternoon streets while Lena rested her phone on her lap, resisting the urge to call Nathan again.
She imagined him waiting inside their apartment with flowers, or perhaps lunch already prepared, determined to cheer her up after the disappointing news.
By the time the taxi stopped outside Westbrook Apartments, she had almost convinced herself that everything would somehow work out.
After paying the driver, she stepped onto the pavement and hurried through the revolving doors into the elegant lobby.
Her heels echoed across the polished marble floor as she made her way toward the elevators, but the uneasy feeling that had followed her ever since Nathan failed to answer his phone refused to disappear.
It wasn’t like him.
Not once in three years had he ignored her calls.
She pressed the elevator button and folded her arms across her chest while watching the illuminated numbers descend one floor at a time.
The wait felt unusually long, and by the time the doors finally opened onto the twelfth floor, her pulse had begun to race without any reason she could explain.
The hallway was unusually quiet.
As she approached their apartment, she slowed instinctively.
The front door wasn’t closed completely; it stood slightly ajar.
Her brows drew together.
“Nathan?”
She called out, and no one answered.
She let out a nervous laugh and pushed the door open another few inches.
“Nathan, are you trying to surprise me?”
“My love, are you there?” She was careful; what if it was a burglar?
But only silence greeted her.
Then, from somewhere deeper inside the apartment, a woman’s laughter drifted softly through the stillness.
It was very light and intimate.
It was followed almost immediately by the low murmur of a man’s voice.
Lena froze instantly.
No… The single word echoed through her mind as every instinct rejected what her heart was already beginning to fear.
Nathan wouldn’t… He couldn’t.
Her feet moved before her thoughts caught up, carrying her slowly down the hallway.
Each step felt heavier than the last until she found herself standing outside the bedroom.
The door wasn’t fully closed; it had been left slightly open, revealing only the faintest glimpse of the room beyond.
Her fingers trembled as they touched the edge of the door, and with a slow push it swung inward.
Everything inside her seemed to stop.
Nathan was lying in their bed—the same bed they had spent an entire Saturday choosing together because he had insisted she deserved the most comfortable mattress they could afford, the same bed she had carefully made before leaving that morning.