When Love is a Question Mark
Chapter 90: Empty

Chapter 90: Empty

As Zinnia finished her dinner, she placed the empty plate in the sink, rinsing it absentmindedly. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made her uneasy. She wiped her hands on a towel, leaning against the counter, staring at the empty space where Samuel usually stood.

It felt strange, missing someone who was just a few hours late. But it wasn’t just about the time. It was about the way he had been, lately—present, attentive, warm. She had gotten used to those small, thoughtful gestures, the way he’d bring her a cup of tea without saying a word, or how he’d catch her eye across the room and smile.

And now, with him gone, the house felt hollow. Lonelier than it had ever been, even back when Samuel’s cold treatment had been all she knew. She could handle that old, distant version of him because she didn’t expect anything else. But now, she had tasted something different, and going back to that emptiness scared her.

She walked around the kitchen, picking up the small mess she’d made while cooking. Her mind kept drifting, replaying their breakfast together that morning. It was a simple memory—Samuel pouring her glass of water, their hands brushing against each other, and the way he looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time.

She clung to that feeling, hoping it wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

A part of her wanted to call him, to hear his voice and know that he was okay. But she stopped herself. She didn’t want to come off as needy or clingy. Samuel was dealing with something important, and she had to trust that he would handle it.

But that didn’t stop the anxiety from creeping in, tightening her chest with every passing minute. She glanced at her phone, half-expecting to see a message from him, but the screen was blank.

As she put the book down, she caught a glimpse of their reflection in a photo on the shelf—a picture of them at one of those formal events, forced smiles and stiff poses. She remembered how uncomfortable she had felt that night, standing next to a man who barely spoke to her, who seemed a million miles away even though he was right there.

It was different now, wasn’t it? She wanted to believe it was. But tonight’s silence was making her doubt, stirring up old fears she thought she had buried. She didn’t want to go back to those days, where she felt like a stranger in her own home.

She walked down the hallway, her steps echoing softly, and paused outside Samuel’s room again. The door was closed, as it usually was when he wasn’t home. For a moment, she felt an urge to open it, to see if it still carried the scent of him, if it would make her feel less alone.

But she didn’t. She just stood there, her hand resting on the doorknob, feeling the cool metal against her skin. The thought of Samuel coming back, finding her snooping around, made her pull back. She would wait. She could do that.

Zinnia went back to her room, changing into a warm sweater and pajama pants. She tied her hair up into a loose bun, the soft strands falling around her face. The clock on her nightstand ticked quietly, reminding her how late it was getting.

She knew she should try to sleep, but the idea of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, seemed unbearable. So she found herself back in the kitchen, pulling out a pot to make tea, hoping it would calm her nerves.

As she waited for the water to boil, she found herself thinking about Samuel’s expression this morning. There had been something in his eyes, a softness she hadn’t seen before. It was as if he was trying to tell her something, but he couldn’t find the words.

The kettle whistled, pulling her out of her thoughts. She poured the hot water over a tea bag, watching as the color seeped into the cup, swirling slowly. She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her, but it didn’t chase away the chill she felt inside.

She checked her phone again, still no message. She typed out a quick one, I hope everything’s okay. I’m here if you need me.

She hesitated, staring at the words before pressing send.

Meanwhile, Samuel and Timmy sat quietly on the plane, the hum of the engines filling the silence between them. Timmy had his laptop open, going over details, but he glanced over at Samuel, who was staring out the window, lost in thought.

"Do you think she suspects anything?" Timmy asked quietly, his eyes narrowing with concern.

Samuel didn’t turn away from the window. "No," he said, his voice barely audible. "And I’d like to keep it that way. She doesn’t need to be dragged into this. Not until I know for sure."

Timmy nodded, understanding the weight behind Samuel’s words. "But what if...?" he started, but Samuel cut him off.

"Then I’ll deal with it," Samuel said firmly, his eyes finally shifting to meet Timmy’s. "Whatever happens, I’ll handle it. But Zinnia... she’s been through enough."

Timmy didn’t press further. He could see the determination in Samuel’s eyes, the way he was bracing himself for whatever they would find. It was rare to see Samuel so vulnerable, so open about his feelings. But this was about more than just business, more than a possible threat.

It was about Zinnia.

The plane began its descent, the lights of the small island below coming into view. Samuel’s grip on the armrest tightened, his mind racing with what they might find. Every possibility, every scenario, played out in his head, but none of them gave him peace.

As the plane landed, Samuel took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He had to be ready, no matter what they found on that island. Because if James was alive, it would change everything. And if he wasn’t, then Samuel had a lot to answer for, especially to Zinnia.

Back at the house, Zinnia finished her tea, setting the cup down on the counter with a soft clink. The house was dark and quiet, but she didn’t feel like going to bed just yet. She thought about calling her parents, just to hear a familiar voice, but she didn’t want to worry them.

Instead, she decided to wait a little longer, just in case Samuel came home. She curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs, and closed her eyes, listening to the ticking of the clock, hoping that soon, the door would open, and he would be there.

Because even though she hadn’t said it out loud, she missed him. And she wasn’t ready to let go of the hope that things were finally changing for the better.