Chapter 29
Chapter 29 (Alex’s POV)
I sat behind my desk, staring at the stack of files in front of me.
Contracts.
Business deals.
Memos.
All urgent.
All important.
All meaningless.
---
I picked up the first file, flipping through the pages without really seeing them.
The words blurred together, twisting and sliding off the paper.
None of it mattered.
None of it felt real.
---
I pushed the file away roughly and leaned back in my chair.
The office was too quiet.
The city buzzed far below my penthouse office windows, but it felt a million miles away.
Untouchable.
Unreal.
Like I was trapped behind glass.
Watching a life I no longer belonged to.
---
I scrubbed a hand over my face, the roughness of my stubble scraping my palm.
I hadn't slept much.
Hadn’t really eaten either.
There was a constant ache gnawing inside me — deep, relentless.
A feeling like something important was missing.
Something I needed.
Something vital.
---
The flashes were getting worse.
Sharper.
Stronger.
---
This morning, when I woke up, I could have sworn I smelled rain in my apartment.
Fresh rain, even though the sky was clear.
It clung to the air.
Filling my lungs.
Filling my chest.
And for a split second, I wasn’t alone.
There was laughter.
Soft.
Familiar.
A hand brushing against mine under warm covers.
A whisper against my skin.
"Alex..."
Then it was gone.
Snatched away like a cruel trick.
Leaving me gasping for air.
---
I stood up suddenly, shoving the chair back.
The walls of the office closed in on me.
The glass windows.
The cold marble floors.
The polished mahogany desk.
All of it felt fake.
Dead.
Like I was trapped in a cage made of my own success.
---
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts aimlessly.
Hundreds of names.
Business partners.
Old college friends.
Employees.
Rachel.
I hovered over her name for a second before locking the screen again.
What was the point?
She wasn’t the one I needed.
She wasn’t the voice I heard in my dreams.
She wasn’t the warmth I was missing.
---
I stuffed my hands into my pockets and paced the room.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
The restless energy inside me was almost unbearable.
I needed to move.
I needed to find something.
Someone.
Anything.
But I didn’t even know where to start.
---
I left the office without telling anyone.
Let them think what they wanted.
Let the deals wait.
I didn’t care.
Not anymore.
---
I drove aimlessly through the city.
Past parks.
Past coffee shops.
Past college campuses buzzing with students.
At a red light, I caught sight of a bookstore window.
A display of romance novels.
Two lovers clinging to each other on a rain-soaked street.
I turned away quickly, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.
---
I ended up back at my penthouse without remembering the drive.
I walked through the front door and stood there, staring at the empty space.
The silence pressed against my ears.
I dropped my keys on the counter and wandered through the rooms.
Kitchen.
Living room.
Bedroom.
All spotless.
All lifeless.
---
I opened a drawer in my nightstand and pulled out an old photo album.
It was dusty.
I hadn’t touched it in years.
I flipped through the pages.
Family vacations.
Graduations.
Business trips.
All smiling faces.
All picture-perfect memories.
But none of them filled the hole inside me.
None of them explained the ache in my bones.
None of them showed the face I couldn’t stop seeing in flashes and dreams.
---
I slammed the album shut and threw it across the room.
It hit the wall with a dull thud and fell to the floor, pages splaying open.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands.
What was wrong with me?
Why couldn’t I let it go?
Why couldn’t I just move on?
---
I sat there for a long time, the city lights blinking outside my window.
Somewhere out there, she existed.
I didn’t know how I knew.
But I knew.
She was real.
Not a fantasy.
Not a dream.
Real.
---
And every second I stayed here pretending to live a life that wasn’t mine, I lost another piece of myself.
Another piece of her.
---
I stood up again, pacing the room like a caged animal.
I couldn’t keep doing this.
I couldn’t keep pretending.
---
I pulled open drawers.
Searched through old files.
Ripped open boxes of old letters and receipts.
Looking for something.
Anything.
Some clue.
Some crack in the perfect lie of my life.
But there was nothing.
No missing pages.
No hidden secrets.
Only emptiness.
---
I ended up in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, staring at the floor.
I felt hollow.
Cracked down the middle.
Like one wrong move would shatter me completely.
---
I thought about calling Rachel.
About pouring a drink.
About drowning myself in noise and meaningless distractions.
But what was the point?
It would only delay the truth clawing at my insides.
---
I needed answers.
Real ones.
Not the ones on my carefully polished resume.
Not the ones in my picture-perfect apartment.
Not the ones whispered by people who thought they knew me.
The real ones.
The ones buried somewhere deep.
Hidden.
Maybe even stolen.
---
I gripped the edge of the counter, my fingers digging into the cold surface.
I was done waiting.
Done pretending.
Done playing the role of the perfect man with the perfect life.
---
I didn’t know where to start.
I didn’t know who to trust.
But I knew one thing:
I wasn’t crazy.
I wasn’t broken.
Something happened.
Something real.
And I was going to find out what.
No matter what it cost.
---
I walked to the balcony and stared out over the glittering city.
Lights twinkled like a thousand tiny lies.
False.
Empty.
None of it mattered.
---
Somewhere out there, she was breathing.
Living.
Maybe looking at the same stars.
Maybe wondering why her heart felt like half of it was missing.
Just like mine.
---
I pressed my hand against the cold glass of the window.
"I’m coming for you," I whispered.
A vow.
A promise.
A desperate prayer to a universe that had already stolen so much from me.
---
And this time?
This time, I wasn’t letting go.
Not until I found her.
Not until I remembered everything.
Not until we were whole again.