Missing
ARIANA'S POV
I stared at the empty hallway like it would suddenly fill with my mother’s figure, smiling and carrying a tray of tea like she always did when mornings ran late. But there was nothing. Just the echo of Liana’s panicked words hanging in the air.
Her bed hadn’t been slept in. Her closet looked like some things were missing.
She was gone.
Gone.
My heart beat wildly against my ribs, each thump like a warning bell.
Hardin wrapped an arm around my waist, grounding me, but I felt like I might float away—my mind already racing to every terrible possibility. My mother wasn’t spontaneous. She didn’t take unannounced trips or vanish in the night like some rebellious teenager. She made grocery lists in cursive and color-coded her calendar. This—this was not her.
Hardin’s phone buzzed again. He silenced it with a flick, his eyes never leaving me. "Ariana, we’ll find her. It could be anything—maybe she went for a walk and didn’t want to wake anyone. Maybe—"
"No," I said sharply, voice trembling. "She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t just leave. Not without telling me. Not without leaving a note. Her phone’s off, Hardin. She doesn’t turn it off, ever."
Grandpa sat back down slowly, his brows drawn tightly together. "Let’s not jump to conclusions. We don’t know the facts yet."
"But what if something bad has happened?" The words slipped out, brittle and sharp. My voice cracked. "What if she’s hurt? Or worse?"
Grandpa shook his head. "No. I know her. She’s strong. Nothing happened to her. I can feel it."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to cling to the certainty in his voice like a lifeline. But my chest was a twisting knot of fear, and it tightened with every second that passed in silence.
Hardin stood, pacing the room. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched. I could see it—the calculation in his eyes, the desperate attempt to stay calm and in control when everything was spiraling.
Another buzz. His phone again. He ignored it.
I stepped forward. "Hardin, you should go to work. I’ll stay here. In case she comes back."
He spun to face me. "No. I’m not leaving you alone."
"But you have to," I insisted. "You were just made CEO, Hardin. Everyone’s watching you. If you don’t show up today, the vultures will have a field day. You can’t let them think you’re unstable."
He scoffed. "I don’t give a damn what they think. What matters is you."
"And what matters to me is your future," I said, voice rising slightly. "You’ve worked so hard for this. Don’t let them take it from you. Please. I’ll be okay."
His jaw worked, but he didn’t respond.
"I’ll stay with Grandpa," I added. "Security’s here. I’m not alone."
He stared at me for a long moment, and then finally nodded, just once. "Only if you promise to call me the second anything changes. Anything at all."
"I promise."
He pulled me into a hug, burying his face in my hair. "I love you."
My throat tightened. "I love you too."
He kissed me—slow, lingering, almost desperate. And then, with one last glance, he was gone.
The silence left in his wake felt unbearable.
I wandered into the kitchen and made tea with trembling hands. The warmth of the cup did little to soothe the icy pit in my stomach. My thoughts spiraled endlessly.
Where are you, Mom?
What happened?
Why didn’t you tell me?
Grandpa sat in his chair, phone pressed to his ear, calling every friend and contact he could think of. Agnes, my mom's maid, checked with the staff again. No one had seen anything. No car had left. No driver was called.
It was like she vanished into thin air.
I clutched her favorite cardigan as I sat in the living room, pressing it to my face like it could somehow bring her back. Her scent was still there—faint lavender and something warm and motherly. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back.
Hardin’s phone kept ringing in my mind. The unanswered calls. The missed alarms.
I called her number again.
Ring.
Ring.
Voicemail.
I left a message. My voice cracked halfway through.
“Mom… please call me back. I’m scared. Just let me know you’re okay. Please.”
I hung up, my hands shaking.
Minutes blurred into hours. Still no word.
A maid brought me a sandwich. I couldn’t eat. Grandpa urged me to rest. I couldn’t sit still.
The doorbell rang once—I rushed to the foyer, heart leaping, only to find it was the gardener confirming a delivery. I slammed the door a little too hard.
By mid-afternoon, I was pacing.
What if someone took her?
What if she was in danger?
What if I never saw her again?
I stopped by the window, looking out at the garden. The flowers swayed in the breeze. The sun was still shining. The world looked normal. But everything felt wrong.
Hardin’s name flashed on my phone. I answered immediately.
"Any news?" he asked.
"Nothing. Still nothing."
A beat of silence.
"I can leave early. Just say the word."
"No. I told you I’m okay."
"You don’t sound okay."
"I’m not. But I need you to stay focused. Please, Hardin. We can’t both fall apart."
Another long silence.
"I’ll call every hour."
"Okay."
He hesitated. "We’ll find her."
I ended the call and curled up on the couch, her cardigan pressed to my chest.
I closed my eyes and let my memories carry me away—her laughter in the kitchen, her hand brushing my hair back, the way she always hummed when watering the plants. My mother was the glue that held me together.
And now she was gone.
No explanation. No goodbye.
A sinking dread settled in my gut. This wasn’t just a fluke. This wasn’t her stepping out for fresh air and getting lost in thought. Something had happened.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, I found myself staring at the front door, waiting for the handle to turn.
But it never did.
And as night came, as I stayed up staring at the ceiling, my phone clutched in my hand, her number on speed dial, I whispered to the darkness:
"Please come home."
The only answer was silence.
And the terrifying thought that maybe she wasn’t coming back at all.
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