Jonathan's POV
As I got up, I noticed the house was quiet. It was so quiet that I jolted upright in bed. I looked around and felt like I was on a deserted island.
Before also, when Veronica used to go to work and Janet would be off at work, it didn't feel so quiet. Rather it was a peaceful surrounding as I knew they would come back.
Moreover, I was the one who wasn't certain if I would come back or not.
But today, it felt like I was totally alone.
I couldn't smell the breakfast being cooked, nor could I hear Janet playing around.
Did they….
I shook my head.
They must be still sleeping. After all, today is a Sunday.
Or maybe Veronica decided to make dumplings as they are Janet's favorite.
I swung my legs down and got out of bed and went to the bathroom and my smile disappeared.
My towel, and clothes were ready. Even my shampoo was on the shelf as I wash my hair every Sunday.
I should have been happy, but after the way I pushed her last time, she should have been angry.
And if she isn't, that means she stopped caring.
I didn't bother about bathing and changed my clothes.
My breakfast was already on the table.
I sat and was cutting my egg, when I felt like drinking some water.
"Nicky?" I called out. "Could you bring me a glass of water?"
My fork slipped out of my hand as I coughed a little.
She never made me call the second time.
"Nicky…"
Then I called out for Janet. I knew no matter how deep her sleep is, one call from me and she'd jolt out of bed.
"Janet?"
"Nicky??" I coughed a little again. "Nicky, can I have a glass of water?"
I got up and somehow reached the kitchen only to be shocked.
The kitchen was — spotless. Too spotless if she had just cooked.
I poured water and drank it.
Then I went back to our bedroom as I thought she might be on the balcony.
Empty.
Then suddenly I recalled something and ran back to our room. My feet froze as I saw our bed.
Only my side was crumbled. Veronica's side was neat, as if she'd not sleep there.
I staggered a few steps back as I saw her closet was slightly open.
Veronica was very careful. She'd never leave the closet open like that.
My feet were barely carrying my weight as I forced myself towards her closet and opened the doors.
My jaw dropped.
Some of her clothes were missing. Just enough that I wouldn't notice.
I went towards the dressing table, and saw her jewelry was gone.
Now I no longer had any doubt in my mind.
"No…this..this can't be," I stuttered.
"Veronica…she…no…something must be wrong." I said.
I ran through the house.
I didn't know what I was looking for. Or what I hoped to find.
"Nicky?" I called out again as my voice was trembling. "Janet?"
No one answered.
I moved faster as I opened each door. The next one faster and slamming more harder than the last one.
I checked the guest room.
Empty.
My legs wouldn't carry my body, but I still went on and checked the basement.
Empty.
I quickly ran towards Janet's room and opened her closet.
Not only were some of her dresses missing, her toys were also missing.
And her painting kit, the one she kept at home in worry other students would destroy it, was also gone.
Then my eyes rolled to the top of the closet. Janet's yellow suitcase was missing.
My feet staggered back towards Janet's bed as I fell down.
Again I got up and ran to our bedroom.
"They must be there…" I muttered. "They have to be there."
My chest tightened as I went back to the room.
The silence was now louder and mocking at my face.
Everything came to me in flashes.
Her calm behavior.
Her empty smile.
Empty eyes.
Her words.
No anger.
No retaliation.
She didn't even say a word when Imelda's call came and I…
She quietly went out and slept in Janet's room.
"She had it all planned?"
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Did they leave me?
I ran back to the dining table.
I was so focused on how good the day was, I didn't notice the note under the butter tray.
I ran stumbling over the sofa as I reached the dining table.
I was shocked.
There really was a letter under the butter tray.
My hand was trembling as I stretched to pick the letter.
"She must have gone out of station for work or something," I tried easing my nerves.
I fell into the chair as I read the letter:
Jonathan,
By the time you read this letter, I'll have…gone.
The past seven days I was testing you.
I only wanted to know if I..we mattered to you.
But over these seven days, you proved it seven times, we don't.
"No…No…" I said as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Of course you and Janet matter to me. You're my wife. My college love. And Janet…Janet is my daughter, my blood. Of course you matter."
Letter Continues:
You didn't fail.
My love failed.
I lost a lot during the past seven years.
Therefore, I'm taking my daughter with me.
I don't think we'll ever meet again.
Take care.
Once yours, now only Janet's mother,
Veronica.
"No," I said.
And read the letter again and again hoping the words would change.
My eyes scanned the letter faster the second time around.
Then again...
This time slower.
I was hoping maybe the next time I read, the meaning would be different. Maybe there's a hidden sentence or a hint that I missed.
A sign that maybe this wasn't what she meant.
"She didn't mean this…" I said. "She couldn't have…I mean she loves me, and I love her…"
Then my fingers tightened on the edge of the letter.
Seven days.
I replayed the past seven days in my mind.
Every moment and every choice that I made.
Every time I walked away from her for Imelda.
I froze.
"No…" I said. "Nicky, you should have let me explain. It's not like that…"
But after that every memory that came to mind was sharper and more cruel than the previous one.
I realized how she stopped arguing.
How she stopped retaliating.
My breath hitched.
I thought it was her patience.
But it was her goodbye.
The reality struck into my soul like a cold knife.
The letter slipped out of my hand and fell onto the floor.
Then with trembling hands, I reached for my phone.
I scanned for Veronica's number.
The name I saved stared at me like burning coals in my eyes.
"Veronica (Assistant)"
For a moment I couldn't dial her number.
The name. Even today I remember the day I changed it.
I was going to call Veronica to tell I would be late, when..
Imelda leaned over and said.
"Jonathan," she said. "No one will believe I'm your fiancé if her name is saved as wife."
That was the day I changed her name to assistant and wrote fiancé along Imelda's name.
When Veronica noticed the change the first time, she didn't say a word.
I should have understood at the time what I did to her.
"Damn you!!" I cursed myself as I recalled the day I changed her name in my contact list.
I dialed her number.
Beep…beep…
"Sorry the number you dialed is not available."
My chest tightened as I called again,
And again.
And again – Same result.
"Veronica…please pick up!"
A flicker of panic surged into my body.
Her office.
"Hello," the receptionist said.
"I'm Jonathan Rollings. Please connect me to Veronica Smith."
A pause.
"Sir, Miss Smith resigned two days back."
"What?"
The words didn't register to him.
"Janet!"
I dialed her school's number.
"Mr. Rollings," the principal said. "Miss Smith said she was relocating so we made the transfer papers and gave them."
The phone slipped from my hand.
I ran downstairs and that was the last blow.
"Miss Smith?" he said. "She left early in the morning. She had two suitcases with her. One was a yellow one."
I went back upstairs and looked around and felt like the house was caving in on me.
The silence of the home was heavier than the ceiling.
I stood there without moving.
For the first time the once warm apartment felt – cold.
The chair that Veronica would sit and knit away, was neatly in place. The small round carpet that Janet would play on - was void of toys.
The furniture was in place, yet it was so empty.
Janet's drawing was still on the fridge.
It was the one where she didn't draw me.
I laughed as I didn't realize how I myself erased myself from her life.
Then my eyes stopped at the only photo we had together—one wedding photo.
I stared at the photo for a long time.
I watched the woman smiling at me as I was the only being in the world.
Her eyes were so…
Bright, hopeful and most of all–alive.
Recalling her empty eyes, now this person in the photo looked like a stranger.
I laughed as I realized…
I was the one who did this to her.
I wasn't being dramatic.
I just acknowledged it.
If I had just noticed.
If I had just spoken my heart to her.
But now everything was too late.
For seven years…
I believed this house belonged to her.
I believed, no matter what–
No matter how far I drifted–
She would always be here for me.
Waiting.
Enduring.
Forgiving.
As I thought whatever I was doing was for them.
But now…
There was no trace of the woman I loved.
She didn't show any anger.
She didn't fight.
She didn't say goodbye.
Just disappeared.
A clean, silent disappearance.
And somehow…
That hurt me more than anything she could have said.
My grip tightened as a darker thought surfaced into my mind–
Imelda.
What else was I blind to?