Deirdre started to hate storms and their thunderclaps ever since she was incarcerated. Her sight had only been robbed back then. Aside from how hard it was to acclimate to that darkness she could no longer escape, she had to avoid being tormented by other prisoners who were all too happy to capitalize on her blindness.
A single clap of thunder used to frighten her so much that she would shake despite herself. But since her life had gone back to normal, she had rarely been this panicked.
Shutting her eyes, Deirdre wiped away beads of cold sweat from her face and turned on her side to face where the man was.
She reached her fingernails out to the comforter wrapped around him and opened her eyes suddenly.
“Kyran?”
Deirdre ran her hands through his side of the bed. It was empty and cold. He was gone.
When did he leave? Where did he go?
Deirdre lost her sleep. She swiped her shirt hanging from the side of her pillow, put it on, slipped into her shoes, and went outside.
The living room was deadly silent. She mused for a moment and decided to visit his study. Maybe there was something urgent from work and he needed to burn the midnight oil. She knocked on the door, asking, “Kyran, are you inside?”
There was no answer. Just more silence. She pushed the door open, expecting illumination to flare in her vague, blurry world, and got nothing. He was not there.
Neither on his bed or his study on this stormy night? Where could he be?
For some reason, Deirdre began to feel anxious. He had not been himself today, as if he was hiding something from her. Putting those two together…
The sound of a car steering into a stop stopped her train of thought. When the door to his study opened, Deirdre was mulling over whether she should go downstairs to meet him.
“Kyran, is that you?” she called out.
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