The Perfect Mistake

Chapter 3: Ocean's Embrace

After cleaning myself up, I settled onto the plush sofa and gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean before me. Despite my best efforts, sleep seemed like an impossible feat tonight. My mind was consumed by everything that had transpired, especially the unnerving mystery of Pier's sudden disappearance. I clutched my phone, and for the umpteenth time, I typed out a desperate message to him, hoping for a response.

To: Pier Cullen

Please give me a call ASAP. I swear, if you don't, I'll have no choice but to call New York's finest. Please, my love, come home.

Frustration washed over me as I noticed the stream of identical messages that had filled our conversation over the last few hours. My continuous attempts to call him only yielded a persistent beeping sound. The uncertainty of how long he had been missing made it difficult to involve the NYPD just yet.

I glanced at the wall clock, its hands indicating it was already two in the morning. Despite the late hour, sleep eluded me entirely. My mind raced, and I checked the world clock on my phone to see the time in Manhattan, where our friends would still be awake. I needed help, and I knew just the person to turn to—Herrick Anderson, one of Pier's friends who also worked for their airlines. He might have some insight into Pier's recent whereabouts, though I feared he might be hesitant to share any confidential information.

Summoning my courage, I tapped on Herrick's name in my phone book and composed a message. My heart pounded with anxiety as I hit send.

To: Herrick Anderson

Hi, it's Isla Elizando, Pier Cullen's girlfriend. I'm worried sick as Pier isn't answering his phone. Do you happen to know his last flight or anyone in your company I could talk to about my concerns? Your help would mean everything. Thank you.

As I sent the message to Herrick, my heart pounded loudly in my chest, each beat echoing the anxiety that consumed me. The weight of uncertainty settled heavily upon my shoulders as I sank back into the soft embrace of the sofa. The ocean's rhythmic waves crashed against the shore outside, a stark contrast to the turmoil within me.

My phone remained silent, no sign of any response from Pier. The beeping sound from my earlier attempts to call him still echoed in my ears, a haunting reminder of his absence. The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder, mocking the passage of time that offered no answers.

As the minutes stretched into an eternity, I felt the pain surge through me—physically and emotionally. My body ached from the tension, but the internal torment was far worse. Tears streamed down my cheeks, each drop a release of the pent-up emotions I had been trying to suppress.

Wrapped in my own anguish, I found myself gasping for breath as sobs wracked my body. It was a torrent of emotions that had been held back for too long, a storm that demanded to be unleashed.

"Where the fuck are you, Pier?" I whispered through trembling lips, the question lingering in the air like a desperate plea for him to hear me wherever he might be.

The room felt small, suffocating, and I yearned for his comforting presence. But he was nowhere to be found, leaving me to navigate this nightmare on my own. Time lost all meaning as I surrendered to the pain, letting myself feel every ounce of grief and worry. It was a cathartic release, and though the tears continued to flow, a sense of clarity emerged from the emotional storm.

I awoke to the soothing sound of waves crashing on the shore, the tantalizing aroma of breakfast lingering in the air, and an insistent knock on my door. Groggy and disoriented, I realized I had cried myself to sleep on the sofa. Panicking, I rushed to the mirror, dreading the sight of swollen, puffy eyes betraying my emotional turmoil. And alas, my fears were confirmed; my reflection revealed the aftermath of hours of tears.