Twisted Ties of Love

The phone offered nothing but an emotionless automated message.

Before Casey could even react, his phone had tumbled from the bed to the ground. It fell from such a height, landing on its corner, and the screen splintered into a small crack that spread like a spiderweb, blurring the image of Izabella's face on the lock screen.

His assistant quickly scooped up the phone to hand it back to Casey, but as he straightened up, he saw Casey attempting to rise from the bed.

Still weak, Casey felt world spun and his legs tingled with numbness, sending him crashing to the floor like a boneless serpent.

In just a few seconds, a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead.

The assistant hurried to his side. Casey had lost a lot of weight recently; tall but not heavy, he was easily hoisted up with one hand. The assistant tried to guide him back to bed, but Casey insisted on leaving, his steps shaky and unsteady.

"Mr. Dempsey, you can't be discharged yet. The doctor said you have acute gastroenteritis, and they found traces of knockout drops in your blood. If you leave now and it gets worse, you'll just end up back in the hospital, and it won't be as simple as an ordinary stay."

As the assistant's voice trailed off, Casey froze at once, "You said there are knockout drops in my blood?"

The assistant nodded.

Casey's face turned even grim; his mind raced with images from the day, from waking up to being admitted to the hospital, like a carousel of memories that stopped at the moment Izabella had stood at the doo that morning and said, "Casey, goodbye."

It wasn't "see you later"; it was goodbye. She hadn't said see you later because she wasn't planning on it.

Izabella had said a lot when she sent him off that day. She told him to eat well, to sleep well, to rest - she cared for him, but she was also preparing for a departure, because she knew she wouldn't be there to remind him every day.

She spilled out her words in one breath, giving Casey no chance to respond.

The knockout drops must have been in the breakfast Izabella prepared, her exit meticulously planned while he was lost in thoughts of their future.

People didn't just up and leave; there was always a buildup, something he must've been oblivious to.

"I have to go back; something might have happened to her."

"Mrs. Dempsey is in trouble?"

Everyone at the company knew about Casey and Izabella's marriage, so the assistant had long since started referring to "Ms. Salotti" as "Mrs. Dempsey".

Casey's face was frantic; he had to go back. Izabella had left him - what was he supposed to do? He had promised to protect her for life.

He couldn't hear anything around him; his sole focus was on getting out, his hand still attached to an IV.

The nurses outside rushed in upon hearing the commotion.

When they learned that Casey was desperate to leave, they tried to persuade him, "You can't be discharged yet; there's still a bag of IV fluids to finish. Just relax and you can leave in the morning." Through gritted teeth, Casey insisted, "I have to go back!"

When the nurses couldn't change his mind, they called the doctor, who also couldn't deter him from leaving.

"If you're going to leave, keep the IV in until it's finished; then you can remove the needle," the doctor tried to look out for Casey's health to avoid a more serious condition.

This time, Casey nodded in agreement.

The assistant called a driver and accompanied Casey back home, holding the IV bag, which dripped slowly into his vein. Even at full flow, the small bag would take over half an hour to empty.

Casey, one-handedly, kept dialing and texting Izabella, his fingers growing stiff from half an hour's effort without a single reply.

When they tried to track her phone's location, the signal was dead. If a person really wanted to disappear, they could vanish into thin air.

Upon reaching Spring Bay, as the car screeched to a halt, Casey flung open the door and stumbled out, the assistant holding the IV bag in one hand and ready to catch him with the other.

Casey refused his help, yet he still maintained the same gesture just in case to hold Casey's wobbling figure at any time.

Casey stood on his own as he made his way to the front door. His trembling hand pressed upon the biometric lock, and as the door swung open, silence enveloped him so completely he could hear his own breath and feel his heart pounding.

Casey's mind was filled with

thoughts of Izabella. There was still a bit of fluid left in the IV bag, which tied him down a bit. Frustrated, he yanked at the tube near his hand, pulling out the needle and causing blood to stain the clear medical tape on his hand.

By six o'clock, the southern winter evening had fallen dark, the streetlights casting a dim glow. As the door opened, light spilled inside.

"Bella, I'm back," he said instinctively, though no one replied. He flicked on the lights with a familiar motion, and with a click, the room flooded with light.

Despite the brightness, everything

seemed blurred. The more the

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silence pressed in, the more his mind raced with panic, a feeling he'd been suppressing all the way home. Now in the stillness of the house, that panic was unrestrained, casting a dark cloud over him.

Inside, everything was as it had been; Izabella's favorite rocking chair on the balcony, her beloved books, the water glass she'd used, the flowers she'd bought, and the breakfast dishes she'd used that morning. Everything was there, except her.

Suddenly, Casey bolted upstairs, blood from his hand trailing behind him; the assistant was unable to stop him, only to see his darting figure.

He burst into the bedroom and turned on the light. His gaze fell on the sunflowers on the balcony, then shifted, finally resting on the nightstand.

As he approached and saw what lay there, a muffled groan escaped him, a metallic taste filling his mouth.

When the assistant arrived upstairs to check up on him, he found Casey slumped against the bed, clutching a few sheets of paper that made his hands tremble uncontrollably. Casey's eyes were red with bloodshot threads. Hearing footsteps at the door, he looked up blankly as tears streamed down his face, the magnitude of his loss finally hitting him. Casey moved his mouth, mouthing the words silently, "She's gone. She doesn't want me anymore."

No one saw it coming, Izabella's sudden departure. Without warning, she left behind nothing but a signed divorce settlement and vanished.

Just yesterday, they had been at the amusement park, visited his folks, talked about their wedding, set a date, and even made plans for Christmas vacation. How could she just walk away like that? They say when someone decided to leave, they did it quietly, without taking anything extra with them.

All Izabella took was her phone; her clothes were still neatly hung in the closet.

Casey's heart was trembling violently, the sensation of pain spreading through his flesh, making his lips quiver and his breaths come out ragged.

He had gone over the papers in his hand countless times, crumpling them up until the document was creased and worn. Staring at the signature where "Izabella" was written in her hand, he tried to decipher her emotions at the time.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't feel her presence in those scribbles. All he felt was a chill from the divorce papers, as a draft from the slightly open window sent a cold breeze in, causing the curtains to flutter.

After standing quietly for a while, the assistant sighed and, seeing Casey unresponsive, went to close the window.

When the assistant turned back, Casey was on his feet, "Call the police. Get a search party out for her."

This divorce settlement, casually signed by Izabella on her way out, was something Casey would never agree to.

If Izabella truly wanted a divorce, he would let her go. But her sudden disappearance, her phone unreachable, texts sent with no replies, surely meant something had happened to force her into this decision. Why couldn't she just trust him?

The security cameras in the vicinity

were out of order, eliminating the chance of tracking her through surveillance footage. Casey put his work on hold and, pushing through exhaustion, searched for her through the night and well into the next day, not even pausing to take a sip of water.