My Cold-Hearted Husband Wants Me Back
Chapter 167: Silence Of Absence

Chapter 167: Silence Of Absence

Lunara stood in the middle of Eryx’s office, arms crossed and frown etched deep on her face. The room was painfully neat, as if untouched in days, no jackets slung across the back of a chair, no half-finished coffee mugs, no scent of his cologne clinging to the air. Just the silence of absence.

He had been gone for a week.

No calls. No texts. No signs of life.

No one knew where he was or so they claimed. She didn’t believe it for a second.

Her gaze flicked to Callum, who lingered by the doorway looking extremely uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a student caught lying to the principal.

"You’re telling me you have no idea where he is?" Lunara asked, sharp and steady.

Callum sighed, eyes fixed on the floor. "He didn’t tell anyone, Madam."

"That’s a lie."

"It’s not—"

"You always know," she cut in, stepping closer. Her voice was low, steady. "You’re the one he trusts most. Don’t give me this ’he vanished’ excuse. He didn’t vanish, Callum. He left. That’s different. He hide somewhere."

Callum’s jaw clenched secretly. He didn’t respond right away, and that hesitation was all the confirmation Lunara needed.

Her arms dropped to her sides, fists clenched. "Where is he?"

Callum sighed again, longer this time, as if he’d been holding it in for too long.

"He’s at the Aurevo Grand Hotel," he said quietly. "The suite."

Lunara’s heart skipped a beat. The mention of the hotel hit her like a jolt of electricity. It was the place where they had first met again after two long years, when everything had changed between them. The memories, still raw, surged back in an instant.

Her eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to Callum, voice low and firm. "The suite... the one where we first saw each other again?"

Callum gave a reluctant nod.

Lunara muttered a soft "okay," and before he could say another word, she was already striding out of the office.

The drive to Aurevo Grand Hotel was swift, fueled more by determination than worry. This wasn’t panic. It wasn’t a heartbreak. It was the kind of pull that came when someone leaves without a word and you need to see with your own eyes that they’re still standing, still breathing, still the same or not.

Lunara strode fast past the receptionist and the receptionist blinked at her as she walked in, clearly on the verge of stopping her until recognition set in.

"Ma’am—oh, please go ahead."

She nodded politely and headed straight for the elevators.

Inside, she smoothed her hair and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Determined, slightly flushed from the brisk walk... okay, not bad. But then her gaze drifted toward the suite floor button. What if he didn’t open the door? What if he peeked through the peephole and just... didn’t want to deal with her?

She frowned, racking her brain thinking of every idea to make sure he opens the door.

"No, this can’t do," She muttered to herself before marching back down, left the lobby, and bought a bottle of red wine from the fancy hotel boutique. In the quiet hallway, she took a tiny sip, just enough to warm her throat and then carefully poured a little across her shoulder and front, just enough to look like she’d had a dramatic little moment with a cab ride or a clumsy step.

A few deep breaths. Then back up.

She stood in front of the suite again. Smoothed her wine-splotched blouse. Fluffed her hair a little and rubbed her eyes to smudge her eyeliner. Rang the bell with the calm confidence of someone who definitely wasn’t faking a wine spill to make a dramatic entrance.

She smirked and raised her eyebrows. Now let’s see if the door opens.

Unfortunately, it didn’t. The silence in the hallway stretched, aggravating her already simmering frustration.

"Eryx Cyrus, open the door!" she called, voice only slightly slurred for effect. She jabbed the bell repeatedly—once, twice, a third time—then followed it up with a series of increasingly loud knocks that echoed off the elegant walls.

Her patience, clearly, had not made the trip with her.

The door stayed stubbornly shut.

Lunara narrowed her eyes at the peephole, then turned to glance at the wall across the hallway. With an exaggerated sigh, she made her way over and sat down right beneath it, legs folded, back against the wall. The marble floor wasn’t exactly cozy, but she’d made her point—well, half of it. The other half was still waiting behind that door.

She stared at the peephole again from across the hall and muttered silently, Let’s see if you’re really willing to let me sit out here in this cold hallway like some unwanted delivery.

Time ticked by. Still no sound from inside.

Her confidence slowly gave way to concern. What if something had actually happened? What if he wasn’t ignoring her, but—no, don’t spiral.

The chill in the corridor crept through her sleeves, nibbling at her arms. Her nose felt like it belonged in a winter drama. And she’s admitted, maybe she hated the cold more than she let on.

Grumbling under her breath, she picked up the bottle of wine and eyed it like a reluctant ally. "Just to warm up," she reasoned, then tilted it back and took a longer sip this time. One sip turned to another. Eventually, the bottle settled on the floor beside her, nearly empty.

Her cheeks started to flush pink, just the wine doing its job and her toes felt a little less like ice cubes.

The hallway light buzzed faintly above her, and the gentle hum of silence lulled her senses. Her head drooped once, then snapped back up. She blinked hard, tried to focus on the door across from her.

It didn’t move.

"Coward," she mumbled, squinting at the peephole like it personally offended her.

She leaned her head back against the wall, eyelids heavy. "Just five more minutes," she murmured, lips barely moving.

The bottle slipped slightly in her hand as her eyes finally closed.

A beat of silence.

Click.

The suite door finally opened, but she was already too drunk to even notice.

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