Eighteen Days to Forget You

Jarrett Sheppard didn't go back to the apartment. He drove to his office instead, his mind still racing.

He sat in his large leather chair and stared at his phone. He had dozens of messages from business associates and friends, all wishing him a happy birthday. But the one message he was looking for wasn't there.

He tried to rationalize it again. Her silence is a sign of progress. She's finally letting go.

In a fit of frustration, he threw his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack and slid to the floor. He wanted to cut off the digital connection, to stop waiting for a notification that would never come.

He opened the bar in his office and poured himself a large glass of whiskey. He drank it down in one go, the burn in his throat doing nothing to ease the ache in his chest.

He thought about their relationship. She's my sister. That's all she can ever be. I can't love her that way.

He picked up his damaged phone. The screen was shattered, but it still worked. He opened his photo gallery, intending to delete all the pictures of her. But he hesitated. He scrolled through them instead. Alayna smiling. Alayna pouting. Alayna looking at him with adoration in her eyes. He couldn't bring himself to press delete.

He eventually fell asleep in his chair, the whiskey bottle empty on his desk. He dreamed of her. In the dream, she was walking away from him, disappearing into a crowd, and he couldn't reach her.

The next day, he drove back to the empty mansion on the hill. As he walked into the living room, he saw something on the coffee table.

It was the harmonica he had given her. And a drawing.

He picked up the drawing. At first, he thought it was a cruel joke. But as he looked closer, he saw that it was a portrait of him and Kisha. They were smiling, holding hands. But the smile on his own face in the drawing looked forced, exaggerated.

Then he saw the small note written in the corner.

[Jarrett, happy birthday. Let' s part ways here. We have no further connection.]

[I wish you all the best in a future without me.]

A sudden, cold panic seized him. He looked around the room. It was too clean, too empty.

He ran up to her room. It was bare. The closet was empty. The shelves were empty. All her things were gone.

He remembered the harmonica. She had treasured that gift. He had promised her he would always protect her. For her to leave it behind... it meant she was severing everything. This was a final goodbye.

He grabbed his phone, his hands shaking. He tried to call her.

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

He tried her social media. Her account was gone. Deleted.

A frantic, angry laugh escaped his lips. He couldn't believe it. He thought this was just another one of her tantrums, a dramatic gesture.

He called his assistant. "Find out where Alayna Dickerson is. Now!"

There was a pause on the other end. "Sir, I... I don't know. I don't have any information on her recent activities."

Jarrett slammed his fist on the table. He realized with a sinking feeling that he knew nothing about her life anymore. He had been so focused on pushing her away that he hadn't paid any attention to what she was actually doing.

He had no idea where his sister had gone.