Page 48 of Perfectly Wrong

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Page 48 of Perfectly Wrong

Please, Lena, answer the phone! I’m worried sick. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.

We need to talk. I can explain everything. I know you’re upset, but it’ll all be fine in the end, I promise!

It’s almost ten p.m., and you’re still not home. Where are you, Lena?

You said I could always wait for you. Please, come back. I love you!

I hesitated before hitting send. Confessing my love like this could either bring her to me or push her further away, but I couldn’t keep it in. I loved her so much that being apart felt unbearable. I took a deep breath and grabbed the notebook and pen I kept in the glove compartment. Writing was my therapy, and I was desperate for it, or I’d lose my mind right there in the car.

“How many times will I have to die before you let us live?” I scribbled frantically, my hand shaking as I pressed the pen hard against the paper, leaving imprints on the pages beneath. “Let us be free. This should be the best moment of our lives.Meeting new people, new places and I’d get the chance to show you that you’re the only one who matters.”

I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. Tears blurred my vision, some dripping onto the pages and smudging the ink. Where was she?

I must have dozed off in the car, lucky no one called the cops on me for sleeping there. Alex would lose it if I ended up on some gossip site for crashing in public like that. I woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. Her house looked just as quiet as it had last night. I couldn’t tell if she’d come home or not. Maybe she’d snuck in after I passed out, and I hated myself for not staying awake. I should’ve watched the door all night.

I thought about knocking again, but if she was inside, I didn’t want to wake her. Then again, what if she wasn’t there? What if she’d left me? What if she was hurt somewhere, and I was just sitting here, doing nothing?

“Fuck!” I slammed my fist on the steering wheel and took a shaky breath. For the first time, my brain kicked in. I needed to go home, take a shower, eat something, and come up with a real plan to win her back.

The routine of “leaving my apartment, spending hours parked in front of Elena’s house, then going back home” was now on its fifth day. I’d tried calling Icon Records, but no one would tell me a damn thing about her. The operator just repeated the same line about not giving out information on employees. At least that meant she was still part of the team. Maybe she was just taking some time off and would be back soon, which meant I still had a chance to find her. Not that I had any other choice: Elena was responsible—not just for every beat of my heart but also for the amazing marketing plan for my new album. Speaking of which, the release was only a few days away, and I couldn’t wait for everyone to hear it. Even though my muse had freaked out over the lyrics, I was so proud to sing about her and our love that I could barely contain my excitement. A huge smile spread across my face as I remembered Elena calling them “shitty songs.” I knew she didn’t really mean it and would love them once she calmed down and actually listened to the words. They were my new treasure, and I’d sing them to her every morning until she begged me to stop. And then I’d write more songs about her and sing those too, until we grew old together.

Movement outside caught my attention, and I saw an older couple entering her house. They had a key, which struck me as odd. I’d seen photos of her parents before, so I knew they weren’t hers. Her mom wasn’t that old. I couldn’t look away, and after what felt like forever, they came out. The man was on the phone, speaking excitedly to someone. That’s when it hit me—Elena really wasn’t home. Where the hell was she?

Without you, I’m nothing. An empty shell, soulless. You’re the blessing I asked for, the light at the end of my journey. You’re my person. Please, let us live.

A notification popped up saying the text couldn’t be delivered, and I frowned. I tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe her phone had died, which was rare for Elena. She was always so prepared, carrying extra batteries everywhere.

About thirty minutes after the couple left, my world shattered—a guy in a suit put up a “sold” sign in front of her house. I stumbled out of the car, calling out to him.

“Hey.” I tried not to sound desperate. “Do you know the owner of this house? She’s a friend, and I’ve been trying to get in touch with her for days with no luck.”

The man eyed me suspiciously, not a hint of recognition in his expression. “I don’t, sorry,” he said, sounding genuine. “I only dealt with someone named John, not a woman. Maybe you should ask him.”

I stood there, alone on the sidewalk, as my world crumbled. Elena was with that asshole John. And if they were together, there was only one person who’d know where—Jeremy.

I drove to Icon Records like a maniac, fully expecting to get a stack of speeding tickets. That bastard was going to tell me where she was, or I wasn’t Sam Martin!

“Whoa.” Jeremy looked stunned when I burst into his office.

“Where is she?” I almost shouted. “Tell me, Jeremy. Where the hell is Elena?”

He stood up abruptly, fists clenched at his sides. “I have no idea where she is,” he growled. “If you haven’t noticed, she’s not here anymore. Now get out, Martin. I’ve already lost my best marketing leader, and I swear there’s nothing I’d like more than to punch you in the face. So get out!”

“Jeremy, please.” I tried to rein in my desperation. “I need to talk to her. Please, help me. I’m begging you.”

“Martin, I don’t know where she is. The only thing I know is that Elena won’t be coming back to this office, thanks to you!”

I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at it until it hurt. The operator had called her an employee; what did he mean, she wasn’t coming back?

“Can you at least tell me if she’s okay?”

Jeremy sighed and sank back into his chair. “No, Martin, I can’t. I haven’t spoken to her in days,” he lied.

“She’s with John, isn’t she?” I asked, my voice dripping with bitterness.

“I’m not their babysitter; I have no idea.”

He obviously knew but was shielding his friend from me. The man who loved Elena more than anything and just wanted to make things right with her.




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