“CANDICE!”
A man screamed into the dark mansion, as if it were part of his daily routine. But today it was different. Not in him. He was the same rude man, shouting the moment he stepped into the hall.
It was different around him.

But today she didn’t come running like the other days, to cut through the darkness with her toothy smile.
Today, it was nothing but the echo of his voice bouncing off the high walls, dissolving into stillness.

“Candice!!”
He shouted again, though his voice cracked with a softer tone. Still no sign of her. This was so unusual. He’d never had to call her once, let alone twice.

She was always near the door, waiting for him, as if his scent reached her before his vehicle pulled in. A glint of worry crept into his otherwise impassive face.

He stood there a moment longer, his hand resting on the cool edge of a console table, feeling the slight layer of dust under his fingertips. The silence pressed against his ears.

He rushed toward the kitchen, where he was welcomed by the same cold air and no hint of her except a few used utensils in the sink, their edges still damp from washing. A half-empty glass of water sat on the counter, a faint ring beneath it marking where it had been moved.

“Maybe she is sleeping,” he murmured to himself, though the words felt hollow. He jogged toward their shared room, his shoes scuffing against the polished floor. He passed the huge portrait of a couple’s wedding—her smile bright, his expression stoic under the gold frame that gleamed in the dim light. He had never liked that painting, but she had insisted it be hung where everyone could see.

The faint trace of her soft fragrance touched his nose as he entered the bedroom, a sweet, familiar smell that almost made his chest ache.

“Candy?” he called out again, and the room swallowed his voice in its darkness. He was surprised, and worried now—this was so unlike her.

He stood still for a moment, straining to hear any movement, but there was nothing. No soft shuffle of her feet, no small sigh. Only the low hum of the air conditioner and the tick of the clock.

“Candice! If you are done playing, come out now.” He tried to keep his voice stern, but the concern threaded through every word, making it sound weaker than he intended.

Unknowingly, his hand reached for her side of the bed, smoothing the slight crinkle in the sheet that still held a whisper of her warmth. The comforter was folded back the way she always left it, a small dent on the pillow where her head had rested.

“Maybe she’s hiding in the bathroom,” he thought, fingers crossed. He moved toward the door and slowly clutched the cool metal knob. As he turned it, the creak sounded much louder today, scraping at his nerves and filling the quiet with its harsh rasp.

But she wasn’t there, either. Only the faint scent of soap and the small bottle of her perfume on the counter.

“Where the hell is she? Is she seeking any revenge from me? Is she okay?”
His mind spiraled. He could feel the tension coiling in his chest, tight and heavy.

“Where would she go? She doesn’t have any friends. No relatives. Her favorite spot is across another country.”

Not dwelling long in his thoughts, the man pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen glowing pale blue in the darkness as he dialed. He stared at her contact photo for a moment, the smiling face that suddenly felt very far away.

“Ye... Yes, sir,” the other person stammered, picking up the call in one ring.

“Nick, I have a job for you,” the man said in an almost toneless voice.

“Sure, sir. Anything for you.” As if he had any other choice.

“You have to search for a woman. Wait, I’ll send her details.”

He pulled the phone from his ear, tapped the screen, and sent a photo. The phone buzzed on the other end.

Nick’s eyes widened when he opened the message and saw the woman’s face staring back at him.

“Si... Sir... I think there’s a mistake. You sent madam’s photo.”

“I know what I did. My wife is missing. Find her as soon as possible.”

“Sir? Why don’t you try calling any of your relatives? Or friends maybe?”

“Did I ask you for your suggestion?” His voice cut like ice.

“Anyway, she doesn’t have any relatives, and my friends or relatives know the consequence of even seeing her shadow without taking my permission, let alone taking her with them.”

“Yes... Yes, sir... You know better.”

“Find her. You’ll get anything you want in return.”

“Yes, sir. On it.”

“Within six hours.”

“Sir? If you think madam is hiding, I really need more time.”

“Six hours, it is.”

“Oh... okay, sir. Sure.”

“And sir, I was asking that...” The call was cut off before he could finish.

“Phew... What an arrogant jerk... Glad his wife ran away... Shut up, Nick. Now you only have to find her. Yeah, with fat money, of course.” The man on the other end kept muttering to himself, rubbing his forehead as if that would slow his racing thoughts.

Back at the mansion, the man sat at the foot of the bed. The dim light pooled across the floor, catching the edge of her hairbrush on the nightstand. His cold image slipped, just slightly.

“Where are you, Candy?” he asked the silent room.

But the only reply was the slow, relentless ticking of the clock, and the faint, fading trace of her perfume in the air, dissolving into nothing.