11. Mustaf

Iawake to find the space next to me vacant, the sheets cool to the touch. Sitting up slowly, I scan the room but find no sign of Meiko. A frown creases my brow as I rise from the bed, my steps gradually quickening as concern edges in.

"Meiko?" I call out, my voice echoing in the stillness. I move from room to room, but the villa remains eerily silent, devoid of any trace of her. My agitation mounts as I take in her missing belongings, confirming my gnawing suspicion. She"s left without so much as a word. Irritation bubbles up inside me as I struggle to make sense of her abrupt departure. I pace the plush carpet, the lavish trappings of my home doing little to improve my darkening mood.

I move through my expansive house, the stillness pressing down on me. Her clothes are gone from my bedside. The purse she left on the vanity has vanished. My footsteps echo hollowly as I check room after vacant room but find no trace of her.

The confirmation that she"s truly left without a word ignites a flare of irritation in me. I pace the plush carpets, taking in the opulent furnishings and artwork that now seem garish. This place I built to impress feels cold and empty.

I go to ring for a servant, hoping they can provide some explanation, but find the car gone from the drive. My agitation grows. I rack my brain trying to piece together her abrupt departure. Did I misread her interest? Has something happened to necessitate her immediate return home?

Having searched the house to no avail, I decide to wake my friends. I stride to the guest wing and bang on their doors, urgency fueling my actions.

"Dragan! Maui! Fordan!" I call out, my voice booming in the quiet villa. "Get up now!"

Bleary-eyed and startled, my friends stumble out, clutching their heads. Clearly, they are all still recovering from last night"s revelries.

"What"s going on?" Maui mumbles, squinting against the light.

"Have any of you seen Meiko and her friends this morning?" I demand.

They glance around in confusion and shrug obliviously. My agitation mounts with each blank look and incoherent murmur. Their lack of answers only amplifies my simmering frustration.

"You must know something," I snap, my patience wearing thin. But their genuine bewilderment tells me they are just as in the dark as I am. Meiko"s disappearance remains a baffling mystery.

As the reality of Meiko"s disappearance sinks in, I feel an ugly anger bubbling up inside me. How could she just leave without a word? My friends" teasing questions catch me off guard, grating on my already raw nerves.

"Looking for more than a one-night thrill with her?" Dragan jabs with a knowing look.

I bristle at the implication, squaring my shoulders defensively. "Of course not," I snap, though the denial feels hollow even to my own ears.

I force myself to scoff at the notion that she could mean anything more to me than a fleeting dalliance. It"s merely wounded pride at being so abruptly abandoned after our night together, I insist to myself.

My friends eventually give up their attempts to question or console me, drifting away one by one as I continue my endless pacing.

"We"ll be downstairs when you want to talk, buddy," Dragan says, giving me an awkward pat on the shoulder before exiting the room.

I barely register his words or the closing door, lost in my own turbulent thoughts. At some point, I realize I"m alone, their murmured voices and footsteps having faded long ago.

The silence of the villa presses down on me once more. I make my way back to my own room as if it might offer some answers, but I end up staring blankly at nothing. The space Meiko occupied seems to echo with her remembered laughter, her whispered breaths in the dark. I shake my head sharply, trying in vain to banish the memories assaulting me.

Sometime later, I hear the front door open and voices floating up from downstairs. The servants have returned. I make my way down to the foyer with urgent steps, immediately questioning them about Meiko"s whereabouts.

They explain apologetically that she left very early, insisting the driver take her and her friends to the airport right away. There was some kind of family emergency, though they don"t know any details.

I demand to know if she left any message, and the housekeeper presents me with a hastily scrawled note. I scan the messy writing, but it contains little more than "I"m sorry" and "Had to go." Hardly an explanation for fleeing in the middle of the night without a word to me.

I crumple the unsatisfying note in my fist, fresh anger and confusion churning through me. But beneath it, I can"t ignore the sinking feeling that I"ve let something special slip through my grasp. I retreat to the solitude of my room once more. No matter how I try to rationalize it, the loss of her stings in a way I never expected.