Adam slid Clara’s passport behind the radiator with a grin, already rehearsing the mock outrage he would display when she discovered it. It was meant to be a silly, harmless prank before their weekend trip. But when he stepped back into the living room, Clara was gone, and the apartment had fallen into an unnerving stillness.
He pulled out his phone and called her, expecting to hear the familiar ring followed by a half-amused sigh. Instead, the call went straight to voicemail. He tried again. It was unreachable. Her coat was missing from the hook, yet a few of her T-shirts and her toothbrush remained in place. Something felt distinctly off-kilter.
Frowning, he returned to the radiator to complete the joke, reaching behind it to retrieve the passport and explain everything. His fingers found only dust and cool metal. The passport was gone. He stared at the empty space, trying to recall the exact spot where he had placed it. A quiet coil of fear began to tighten in his chest.
His mind drifted back to their beginning, three years earlier, when they had met in a cramped bookstore, their hands brushing over the same novel. They had laughed in that awkward, surprised manner of strangers, then somehow ended up talking in the aisle until the shop lights dimmed for closing time. What began as a shared book recommendation quickly turned into coffee, then dinner, and then entire weekends spent in each other’s company. They settled into an effortless rhythm: shared meals, private jokes, evenings reading on opposite ends of the couch while trading comments without needing to look up.