34


    Liam’s POV


    Then I turned to the pantry. I opened the white cabs one by one-clean, but hollow. A few bottled spices, some instant coffee sachets… and that was it. No instant noodles. No bread. It felt like the fridge and pantry


    were on strike.


    As if… someone had deliberately left everything empty.


    Then I saw the eggs. In the far corner of the lowest fridge shelf. Only three left.


    I let out a sigh and grabbed one. “Okay. Fried egg. That should be easy.


    With shaky confidence, I opened the drawer to find a spat and… a pan. But there were three kinds. One small, one medium, one huge. Which one did Sienna usually use?


    I picked the medium one. It looked… normal. But just as I was about to turn on the stove, I froze. “Margarine,


    margarine… where’s the margarine?”


    I started opening the upper cabs. One by one. tes, sses, bowls. All neatly arranged. But no margarine. I


    crouched and opened the drawers below. Shopping bags, dish soap, paper towels-everything but margarine.


    “Seriously? Even margarine has to hide?” I muttered.


    Atst, I found a small, opened tub of margarine tucked behind the farthest rack. My hand trembled slightly as I scooped some into the pan. The stove lit up. The egg cracked. A sizzle filled the air. At least… one thing was


    going to n.


    But when I tried to make rice, I stopped in front of the rice cooker. I opened the lid-empty. No rice.


    My head heated up. “This should be simple. It’s just rice!”


    I opened the cabs again, searching for the bag. But I didn’t even know… where did Sienna usually keep it?


    1 opened one big stic bin. Snacks. The next-baking tools. The third-old receipts and stic bags.


    “Rice, for God’s sake… where’s the rice?” I muttered in frustration.


    Suddenly, the kitchen felt unfamiliar. Like someone else’s space. And me? Just a guest who’d wandered in by ident. I stood frozen amid all the open cupboards, the egg in the pan burning because I’d left it too long.


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    34


    I quickly moved it to a te. The edges were ck. It couldn’t be called a sunny-side-up-more like a


    “suffered-side-down.”


    With one hand, I pulled my phone from my pocket. My thumb instinctively opened Sienna’s contact.


    I pressed the phone to my ear.


    No dial tone. The screen showed “unable to connect.” This was my tenth call.


    50%


    I closed my eyes and sighed. I’d been trying to reach her since morning. No answer. No reply. Not even a read


    receipt on myst message.


    Something didn’t feel right. I tried to calm myself, telling my brain she just needed space. But some part of me


    already knew… this was more than anger. More than avoidance.


    She was really gone.


    I… only realized it when it was already toote.


    I leaned against the wall, staring at the messy kitchen, a te of burnt egg in my hand, and the guilt starting to


    swell in silence. How I’d been so busy seeing Sienna as a shadow, not a person. How I got used to everything


    being there without ever asking who prepared it, who woke up earliest, who cleaned up after us when we were


    done.


    Tonight, when I couldn’t even cook rice… everything hit me all at once.


    Sienna’s gone. And somehow, even without a goodbye, I knew… this time, she wasn’ting back.


    I was still standing there, unmoving, as if the wall behind me could hold the weight that had suddenly grown


    too heavy in my chest. The smell of burnt egg on the te grew stronger, making my stomach churn-not from hunger, but from guilt. That egg-burnt, barely edible-felt like a small symbol of my failure. As a father, as a husband, as a man who once promised to take care of this home.


    Noah was still sitting at the dining table, staring at his empty te, absentmindedly ying with his spoon. No whining, no tears. Just silence. The kind of silence that used to be broken by Sienna’s footsteps, her softughter as she fed Noah while telling him about flowers blooming on the balcony, or how she made two versions of fried chicken-crispy for me, soft for Noah.


    Now there was none of that.


    I walked slowly to Noah and sat across from him. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” I said quietly, cing the te of burnt


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    34


    Tue 2 Sep


    50%


    egg in front of him. “Daddy… is still learning.”


    Noah looked at the egg, then at me. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes made me feel like a child being scolded by a teacher. “Mommy’sing home, right?” he whispered.


    I nodded, even though my heart sank. “Yes. But… maybe not today.”


    He gave a small nod, though it was clear he didn’t fully understand.


    After making sure Noah took a few bites-even just one or two-I stood and walked out to the balcony. The night breeze hit my face, cold and sharp. From where I stood, I could see the little garden behind the house. The ce where Sienna used to water the flowers, where Noah took his first steps, a ce that once felt alive.


    I looked up at the dark sky and took a deep breath.


    “Sienna…”


    GET IT N…


    11:12 AM Tue 2 Sep