He thought Yvonne would be delighted. She was always someone who could easily be satisfied. However, when he came back home holding a bouquet of lily–of–the–valley and the gift for his daughter, he was met with a house of darkness.
He turned on the lights and saw the food on the table. A feast, yet most of the food had gone cold. An ice–cream cake sat in the center, but it had melted, and the cream was dribbling in all directions. This house spoke of nothing but emptiness, as if its inhabitants had deserted it for a long time.
Timothy gulped and called out to his wife and daughter. “Yvonne? Tabitha?”
No response.
He went to the bedroom, but there was no one there either. The cabinet was open, and he checked it out, but it was empty. Same thing with Tabitha’s wardrobe.
The bouquet fell from his hands, and petals fluttered across the ground. He had no time for anything else. Again and again, he called Yvonne, but all he got was an icy response. “The number you have dialed is unavailable.”
He shouted and slammed his fist into the wardrobe’s door. Blood trickled down his knuckles. It hurt, but the fear in his heart loomed larger.
For five years they’d been married, and nothing like this had happened before. Yvonne would make sure he could reach her anytime.
Timothy sat down and, for once, reflected on his actions. He wondered if he’d been too harsh these last few days. Yvonne and Tabitha only started acting weird after that kindergarten stampede.
He didn’t let go of Tabitha until he saw Yvonne, though. Yes, he’d been closer to Willow, but he only did it to make Yvonne mad. He’d never start anything with Willow.
He did worse things before, like smearing lipstick on his collar and making sure she saw it.
Yvonne didn’t even get mad back then, but now she and Tabitha were gone. Just like that. Like they were snapped out of existence. He came to the table, quiet as a ghost. Slowly, he fed himself with the cold food.
He muttered, “Happy birthday, Tabitha.”
Oh woe, he received no response.
Seven o’clock in the morning came, and the door swung open. Timothy had sat by the table the whole night. His eyes lit up, and he jumped
out of his seat. “Yvon
No, it was not. A middle–aged woman came in instead. Timothy’s smile froze. Warily, he asked who the woman was.
“Ah, you must be Mr. Horuson. I’m the housekeeper Ms. Johnson hired. She told me she’s going on a trip somewhere far, far away, so I’m tasked with the housework. Happy to assist, sir.”
Quickly, Timothy asked, “Did she tell you where she was going?”
The housekeeper smiled. “Oh, I can’t possibly know that. And she gave me this ring last night. She told me I could do anything with it. But it’s really expensive, given the looks. I can’t just… take it.”
Timothy saw the ring, and his heart skipped a beat. That was the wedding ring he gave Yvonne. She treasured it and would never take it off her finger.
Now she did. Now she left the ring behind.
