Page 6 of Wasted Grace

TWO

Advik

This didn’t happen.

This didnotjust happen.

Did it?

I’m still gasping, borderline hyperventilating, when I bolt out the door. No shoes, no phone, still in my pajamas. I don’t care.

I reach the street just in time to catch a glimpse of her car disappearing around the bend.

Gone.

I stand there, shaking, adrenaline the only thing holding me upright. I know she doesn’t answer texts or calls while driving, so I wait. Thirty excruciating minutes. The longest goddamn half hour of my life.

I don’t make another coffee. I microwave the one she left me like an idiot—burnt, bitter, awful. Butshemade it. So I drink every drop. Stupid, really.

Then I start.

Calls.

Texts.

More calls.

Nothing. No response.

WhatsApp shows her number is no longer available. No last seen. No double ticks.

She doesn’t have an iPhone. No iMessage.

I try a regular SMS. It fails.

What the actual fuck?

I try calling again, and again—and all I get is dead silence.

My skin starts crawling with every worst-case scenario imaginable.

Who do I even call in this situation?

She doesn’t have family. Raised in an orphanage from the age of fifteen. I barely know her coworkers—just a few nicknames she’s dropped here and there.

Panic claws at my chest. Feeling helpless in my knowledge of her.

More than two hours have passed.

Finally, I give in and call my dad.

“Viko! Beta, I was just—”

“Dad, do you have Pratham uncle’s number?” I cut in, trying to sound normal but failing miserably.

Pratham uncle. DGP. Head of the police. He’d know if something happened.

But calling him over a breakup? Even I know that’s insane.