The next morning, I expected Ella to walk into class late like she usually did, complaining dramatically about how university was trying to kill her slowly.
But she never showed up.
At first I didn't think too deeply about it because Ella skipped classes sometimes, especially when she was stressed or tired, so I just assumed it was one of those days.
Still, during tutorials I found myself checking my phone more than usual.
No messages.
That felt strange.
By the second day, I started getting slightly irritated.
Ella had disappeared before, but never without talking to me properly first. Even when she wanted space, she still replied eventually, even if it was just something dry and unserious.
This time there was nothing.
I texted her during lunch.
Are you alive?
No reply.
A few hours later I texted again.
You're actually worrying me now.
Still nothing.
I tried distracting myself with Jay, classes, random conversations around me, but somehow my mind kept drifting back to that last message she sent me.
Had to run sorry. Emergency.
At the time I didn't think too much about it because I assumed she'd explain later.
Now I kept rereading it like there was something hidden inside the words I missed the first time.
By the third day, my chest started feeling tight every time I opened WhatsApp.
Ella's last seen still hadn't changed.
The same day.
The same time.
The day she texted emergency.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary, my fingers suddenly feeling cold around my phone.
Something about it didn't feel right anymore.
Ella loved her phone too much to disappear like this. Even if she was angry, busy, stressed, crying, literally anything, she would still come online eventually.
But she hadn't.
My heart started racing properly then.
I called her immediately.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Nothing.
Each ring made me more anxious.
By the fourth call, I was already pacing inside my room.
"Ella, what the hell is going on?" I muttered quietly, hanging up again before trying one more time.
Still nothing.
And suddenly, for the first time since she disappeared, fear started creeping in properly.
You'd think I was overreacting, but whenever my gut told me something was wrong, something was usually wrong.
And if I didn't figure out what it was early enough, there were always consequences later.
I sat down slowly on my bed, trying to replay every conversation Ella and I had before she disappeared. My mind kept jumping from one memory to another, searching for something unusual, something alarming I should've paid attention to earlier.
But nothing came.
I frowned slightly, staring at the floor while forcing myself to think harder. Did she sound upset that night? Distracted maybe? Did I miss something because I was too caught up in my own problems?
The more I tried to remember, the worse the feeling in my chest became.
I finally dropped my phone beside me with a frustrated sigh, pressing my fingers lightly against my forehead.
Then suddenly my phone started ringing.
My heart jumped immediately.
Ella.
I grabbed it too fast without even checking properly, but the second I looked at the screen, my expression fell slightly.
Unknown number.
For a second I almost ignored it.
Then something in my chest tightened again.
I answered quickly.
"Hello?"
Then I heard the voice I was definitely not in the mood to hear.
"Please don't cut the call," the speaker said quickly.
I closed my eyes for a second immediately recognizing the voice, and exhaustion washed over me almost instantly.
"Stephen," I said tiredly, already irritated. "What do you want?"
"I wanted us to talk," he said quietly. "I know you probably hate me now, but please just hear me out. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."
I let out a small laugh, but there was nothing funny about it.
"If there's one thing you're right about, it's the fact that I hate you."
The words came out sharper than I expected, but I didn't take them back.
I hardly ever used that word on anyone, no matter how angry I was. Even when people hurt me, I usually found a way to soften it somehow.
But not with him.
And judging from the silence that followed, he could tell exactly how serious I was.
"There's nothing to talk about, Stephen," I said, my voice shaking slightly from anger. "What did you actually expect? That I'd joyfully answer your call?. Well news flash ,Stephen, Incase you didn't notice you fucking ruined my life."
The words came out before I could stop them, heavy with years of things I never properly said out loud.
On the other end of the call, he went quiet for a second before speaking again.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I regret everything I did. I shouldn't have done any of that to you. You didn't deserve it. You deserved someone better, and all I ever did was prove that to you."
As he spoke, tears started filling my eyes against my will.
Not because his apology suddenly fixed anything.
It didn't.
But because hearing him finally admit it brought back memories I spent years trying to bury. Feelings I didn't want to revisit. Versions of myself I hated remembering.
My grip tightened slightly around the phone as my chest started feeling painfully tight again.
Then suddenly, like something pulling me back into reality, I heard my name from outside.
"Anna!"
I froze immediately.
Ella.
I cut the call without another word and rushed outside so fast I almost forgot my phone inside.
The second I saw her properly, my stomach dropped.
Her eyes were swollen and red like she'd been crying for hours.
"Ella, what's going on?" I asked quickly, pulling her inside. "I've been trying to reach you. What happened?"
She looked at me, trying to speak, but the tears in her eyes only got worse.
Then finally, in the weakest voice ever, she said,
"He… he died."
My brows pulled together immediately.
"Who died?"
Her face crumpled slightly before she answered.
"My dad."