Shattered~Vows

RACHAEL'S POV

Sitting across from Amy, sunlight filtering through the café windows casting soft rays on our table, I am lost in our conversation reminiscing about the good old days.

"Remember that time we went to Ibiza for our birthdays?" Amy asks, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

"You almost missed the flight because you insisted on entering that store. "I laugh, shaking my head at the memory.

"Hey, I had to get those boots! They were gorgeous."

Amy raises her glass, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"And now look at us. Thirty and still day drinking like we're twenty-five." I clink my glass against hers, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me, not just from the daytime drinks but from the joy of spending this moment with my best friend.

We had been through so much together, from wild nights in college and spontaneous trips to heartbreaks and new beginnings. Today felt like a nod to our youth, but with a touch of something deeper and more meaningful.

"I can't believe you're thirty," Amy says, setting her glass down and reaching for her purse.

"I got you something."

"Oh no, you didn't have to. Your sparkling company is enough." I tease."

She rolls her eyes and pulls out a small velvet box. I blink, surprised, as she hands it to me. I open the box slowly, and there it is: the necklace. The one I had seen when I was young, the one I had promised myself that I would buy the minute I started making money but never did.

"Amy..." My voice trails off as I run my fingers over the delicate chain, as it twinkles in the sunlight. It was exactly as I remembered. Simple, elegant.

"I know how much you wanted it," she says softly, watching me. "I thought it was time you had it."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I blink back quickly, not wanting to get too emotional in public.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

After enjoying a few more sips of our drinks, I can't stop the excitement bubbling up inside me.

"You know, I have a feeling Jack's up to something today. He's been acting weird all week. I'm sure he's planning some sort of surprise party, and you're in on it too, aren't you?"

Amy looks at me innocently, but a guilty smile tugs at her lips. "Me? I have no idea what you're talking about, Rachael. I haven't seen Jack all week."

"Oh, please!" I laugh.

"You've been plotting this birthday lunch for days. I bet you're just stalling me so he can get everything ready at home." Amy shrugs, giving nothing away. We finish our drinks with a toast to the big three-oh.

"Happy birthday, my love," Amy says with a wink as we hug goodbye.

I leave the café a little tipsy, the necklace she had gifted me bouncing lightly against my chest as I walk to the car. My heart is racing with excitement, my mind spinning with thoughts of what Jack could have planned.

A party, maybe? Or a romantic dinner for two? I can't wait to get home and find out whatever it is.

When I arrive at our penthouse, I practically fly through the front door, expecting to hear laughter, music, or at least some sign of life. But instead, I am greeted by dead silence.

I pause, standing still at the entrance, my heart full of hope.

"Are they are hiding?" I smile to myself.

I tiptoe across the living room, my heels clicking softly on the wooden floor. I go to the kitchen and find it empty. Not a single plate is out of place. I head upstairs, my pulse quickening with each step, anticipating for the moment everyone will jump out with a loud "Surprise!"

But as I reach our bedroom, something cold and unsettling twists in my stomach. To my right, the closet door is open, and Jack's side is empty. His suits, shirts, shoes, and everything that he owns are gone. I rush to the suitcase rack, and I notice my big suitcase is missing.

"Jack?" I call out, my voice trembling now. I turn and hurry to the bathroom, pushing the door open. Then, I see it.

A note.

Stuck on the mirror, plain and unforgiving. The handwriting is his, unmistakable. My breath catches in my throat as I step closer, reading the few words scrawled across the paper:

*I'm leaving you. PS: Sorry to do this on your birthday.*

For a moment, I can't move. The world seems to tilt, and the silence that had filled the apartment is now echoing in my chest. I reach out and touch the note, the paper cold and sharp against my skin, like the words themselves.

I stare at the note for a few more seconds, a laugh bubbling up in my throat.

"Okay, Jack! This is a good one. You can come out now." My voice echoes through the apartment, but there is no answer.

My laughter grows, though it is more from being nervous than amused. This has to be part of the surprise. Some over-the-top, dramatic joke. Either way, Jack always had a flair for the theatrical. Maybe Amy was in on this too. The note is too ridiculous, right?

I step back into the hallway, expecting him to jump out from some hiding place or to hear footsteps, but the apartment remains eerily quiet. My heart starts to pound in my chest, faster than before. The uneasy feeling that had twisted in my gut earlier begins to return.

"Jack?" I call out again, trying to sound more confident. "Come on, you've had your fun. Where are you?"

Still nothing.

I race downstairs, my heels clattering against the steps as I reach for my purse. My fingers fumble inside until I find my phone. Quickly, i swipe to Jack's contact and press call, my pulse thumping louder in my ears.

The phone rings once, followed by the automated voice: "The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. I blink, staring at my phone screen, trying to process what I have just heard.

"I must have dialed wrong." I tell myself, hitting the call button again, more urgently this time.

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

My heart sinks. I stand there, frozen, as the truth starts to creep in slowly. Jack isn't hiding. This isn't a joke. The note, the empty closet, the missing suitcase, it is all real.

I drop my phone into my purse, suddenly feeling dizzy. My legs tremble beneath me as I stumble toward the couch and collapse into the cushions. I stare at the living room in front of me, at the photos on the wall, the small mementos from our life together.

He is gone.