Chapter 1

The rain wasn't just falling, it was attacking the city. Water slammed against the windowpanes of our small apartment, and the wind howled so loud it drowned out the TV. The lights flickered once, twice, then stayed on, but the warning was clear. This was a bad one.

I was in the kitchen making tea when I heard a soft thud from the living room. It wasn't loud, just a dull, heavy sound that didn't belong.

"Mom?" I called out, my voice sounding small against the storm.

There was no answer.

A cold feeling washed over me. I walked into the living room and saw her. My mother, Susan, was lying on the floor next to her favorite armchair. Her book had fallen from her hands, its pages splayed open. Her eyes were closed, and her face was pale, a shade of white I had never seen before.

"Mom!" I rushed to her side, my heart pounding in my chest. I knelt down, my hands shaking as I touched her cheek. It was cool. "Mom, can you hear me?"

Her chest wasn't moving. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slipping on the screen. I dialed 911, but the call wouldn't connect. The storm had taken out the service. Panic, raw and sharp, seized me. I tried again and again, but it was useless.

I ran to the window, looking down at the street. The road was a river of dark, churning water. No cars were moving. I tried a ride-sharing app, then a taxi service. "All drivers are currently unavailable due to severe weather conditions," the apps read, one after the other.

I was trapped. My mother was dying, and I was trapped.

My mind raced, searching for any option, any hope. Then I thought of Chloe. My girlfriend of seven years. She had a car. She lived only twenty minutes away. My hands were trembling so hard I could barely dial her number. It rang once, twice, a third time.

"Hello?" Her voice was a little distant, like she was busy.

"Chloe, it's me," I said, my voice cracking. "It's my mom. I think she had a heart attack. She's not breathing. I can't get an ambulance, the storm..."

"Oh my god, Ethan," she said. There was a pause. I could hear music in the background on her end. "Okay, okay, calm down. I'll be there. I'm leaving right now."

"Please, hurry," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "Please, just hurry."

"I will. I'm on my way," she promised.

I hung up, a wave of relief washing over the panic. Chloe was coming. She would help me. We would get Mom to the hospital. I went back to my mother, whispering to her, telling her to hold on, that Chloe was on her way.

I waited. The clock on the wall ticked, each second a hammer blow against my hope. I stared at the front door, expecting it to open at any moment. Five minutes passed. Then ten. The music from Chloe's end of the call echoed in my head. Why was there music?

Fifteen minutes. Twenty. She should have been here by now, even with the storm. I called her again. It went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. A new kind of dread, cold and sharp, began to creep in. She wasn't coming.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. She wasn't coming.

I looked at my mother, her face still and pale. I couldn't wait anymore. I had to do something. I tried to lift her, to carry her myself, but she was a dead weight, and my grief-stricken body had no strength. I couldn't move her.

A desperate, terrible plan formed in my mind. The hospital was a mile away. I could run. I could get help and bring it back. Leaving her alone was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do, but it was the only choice I had left.

"I'll be right back, Mom," I choked out, pressing a kiss to her cold forehead. "I promise."

I burst out of the apartment and into the raging storm. The wind and rain hit me, stealing my breath. I ran, my lungs burning, my legs screaming. Water splashed up to my knees. The world was a blur of darkness and driving rain. All I could see was the faint glow of the hospital sign in the distance, a beacon in the violent night.

When I finally stumbled through the emergency room doors, I was soaked, gasping for air, and barely able to speak. "My mother," I rasped to the nurse at the desk. "Heart attack... my apartment... please."

They moved fast. A team of paramedics, a gurney. I led them back through the storm, my hope a tiny, flickering flame. We burst back into my apartment, but I knew the moment I saw her. The paramedics knew, too. They worked on her, their movements efficient and grim, but there was no life to bring back.

The doctor's voice was gentle when he told me. "I'm so sorry, son. She's gone."

I stood in the hallway of the hospital, the sterile white walls closing in on me. My clothes were still damp. My body was numb. My mother was gone. And I was completely, utterly alone.

The next few days were a hollow-eyed haze. I handled the funeral arrangements myself. I made the calls, signed the papers, picked out a casket. I moved like a robot, doing the things a son is supposed to do. Through it all, there was a deafening silence from Chloe. Not a single call. Not one text message. It was as if she had ceased to exist. Her absence was a constant, throbbing ache alongside my grief.

The day after I buried my mother, I was sitting in the quiet, empty apartment that had been our home. It felt huge and cold now. My phone buzzed on the table, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. I picked it up. It was a text from Chloe.

My heart gave a stupid, hopeful leap before I read the words.

"Hey, sorry I disappeared," the message began. "Work sent me on an urgent business trip to the coast, last minute thing. It was crazy. Hope everything's okay, figured you could handle it. Let's catch up when I'm back!"

I read the message again. And again. The casual tone, the breezy excuse. "Figured you could handle it." The words twisted in my gut. Urgent business trip. She was lying. I didn't know how I knew, but I was certain. She had promised to come. She had left me alone to watch my mother die.

Staring at that cheerful, careless text message, I felt something inside me break. It wasn't just my heart this time. It was the seven years of love and trust I had placed in her, shattering into a million pieces.