James drove straight to the hotel. He was worried. The roads of Texas stretched before him, but he barely noticed the traffic or the red lights. All he could think about was Emily. Why was she in a hotel? Why didn’t she stay with her parents or friends? Why had she disappeared without a word? The diary told part of the truth, but James felt there was more. At last, he pulled up at the hotel she had mentioned. He rushed to the reception desk and asked for her room number. The receptionist gave it, and he ran to the elevator, his heart pressing against his chest with fear. When he reached her door, he knocked. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still silence. Something was wrong. He turned the handle. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Slowly, he pushed it open, and the sight before him almost froze his blood. Emily was lying on the floor, motionless. Around her were bottles—empty bottles of alcohol, scattered everywhere. The air was filled with the sour smell of drink. ...
James could not rest after reading the diary Emily left behind. The words kept ringing in his head like a bell that refused to stop.
She had not cheated. She had not betrayed him in the way he first thought. Instead, something worse had happened to her. Another man had forced himself on her when he was not around. That was how the baby came.
At first, James could not accept it. He would pace the house, holding the diary in his hand, shaking his head as if trying to reject what he had read.
He told himself it was too hard to believe. How could this have happened in his own house? How could Emily keep such a painful secret from him for so long? And how could he ever accept that another man’s blood was in the child they had both prayed for?
The more he thought about it, the more his chest was filled with pain. He felt betrayed, but not by Emily’s choice—betrayed by life itself.
What made it worse was that she had carried the burden alone. She never told him. She stayed silent while he accused her. She left with the child without defending herself.
Days passed. James went to work and returned home like a shadow of himself. He ate little. He barely spoke to anyone. His colleagues noticed the change in him, but he brushed off their questions.
At night, he would lie awake, remembering Emily’s face, her laughter, her warmth. He still loved her, despite everything. But where was she now?
Finally, after many days of wrestling with himself, James made a decision. He was going to find Emily. He could not let things remain this way. He needed to see her, to talk to her, to hear the truth from her own lips.
He started his search at the most obvious place: her parents’ house. He drove across town, his hands tight on the steering wheel.
When he got there, Emily’s mother opened the door. She looked surprised to see him standing there.
“James,” she said slowly, “what brings you here?”
“Is Emily here?” he asked quickly.
Her mother shook her head. “No. She hasn’t been here. We haven’t seen her since the delivery. What happened? Did something go wrong?”
James smiled. “Nothing. I just needed to know if she came here.”
He left without saying more.
The next day, he went to the homes of her closest friends. One after the other, they all shook their heads. Emily had not visited them.
He checked her workplace. He walked into the office and asked the receptionist if she had resumed. The woman behind the desk looked through the attendance records and said, “Emily took some days off. We don’t know when she will return.”
Everywhere James turned, there was no trace of her.
He began to worry. What if she had left town completely? What if she was planning never to return?
He tried calling her number several times, but each time he dialed, the line said the same thing: “This number is not reachable.”
Days passed. James became restless. He couldn’t concentrate on work anymore. His house felt empty and strange without Emily and the baby’s cry.
One evening, while sitting alone in the living room with the diary open on the table, he picked up his phone and dialed her number one more time. He expected to hear the same robotic voice telling him the number was unreachable.
But this time, the phone rang.
James sat upright immediately. He held the phone tightly, his eyes fixed on the screen as the ringing continued.
Then, he heard her voice.
“Hello?”
It was Emily.
James swallowed hard. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had longed for this moment, but now that it came, his tongue felt tied.
“Emily,” he finally said in a low voice. “It’s me. Where are you?”
There was silence on the other end. Then she sighed. “Why are you calling me, James?”
“I need to see you,” he said firmly. “We need to talk. Please tell me where you are.”
Another pause. James held his breath. Then she answered quietly, “I’m in a hotel.”
“A hotel?” James repeated, confused.
“Yes. I needed space… somewhere away from everyone,” Emily replied.
James ran his hand through his hair. Why would she be in a hotel? What was she doing there? Was she alone?
“Tell me which one,” he pressed.
She gave him the name and location.
As soon as the call ended, James grabbed his car keys and rushed outside. His heart was filled with questions.
Why would Emily stay in a hotel when she could have gone to her parents? Why did she not go to her friends? Why was she hiding herself?
Was there more to the story than what he read in the diary?
The questions burned inside him as he started the car. He drove out of the compound, his eyes fixed on the road.
He was going to the hotel.
He was going to see Emily.
And he was going to hear the rest of the truth.
Nice story
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