DIDN’T COME BACK HOME.

ELOISE'S POV.

“Yes, I will be coming home tonight.”

Seven, simple words that made my entire day. My husband will finally be coming home tonight after two weeks of business trips and I cannot wait to see him. Most especially because today is his birthday and I have planned a surprise party for him.

Work has been hectic recently since my leader left. I have taken more responsibility for the team so working overtime has been a new norm for me. But still, I managed to bring this party to life after staying up for several nights. Balloons and ribbons have been hung, confetti party poppers are ready to be popped. His birthday cake is chilling in the fridge and dishes are minutes from finished.

The most exciting part of all this is the gift I MADE for him. I used to be a perfumer at my parents’ company, which is now a subsidiary of my husband’s business group. It has always been an intimate and special thing for me to create a personal perfume for someone, as it embodies my most personal and deepest feelings towards them. Klein doesn’t know this, but that doesn’t matter.

Klein and I did not marry out of love. At least not for him. We have known each other for a long time, but we were nothing more than acquaintances when we tied the knot. Our marriage was a family alliance and it was more for the benefit of our families than for ourselves. Still, I was the happiest girl in the world because I had this long-time crush on him. There were a few other candidates out there, but because of my family’s company’s — PHOROMA — influence, and Klein’s grandpa’s affection for me, I eventually got the title of Mrs. Klein. I was over the moon with excitement even though I knew I was merely performing a duty to my family.

When Klein held my waist at business functions and looked at me with those affectionate eyes, even though I knew it was a performance to the public, my heart still skipped a beat.

My smile has not faded since I started admiring the entire set up in the living room. Everything looks perfect.

Just twenty minutes. I asked Logan, his PA, his flight’s arrival time and calculated when he should be home. Just twenty minutes away.

Sometimes, I feel like his PA myself, preparing all the things he needs, and the things he doesn’t realise he needs, and waiting at a comfortable distance, not crossing it when he hasn’t asked me to. I don’t want to behave like a needy wife who would only annoy her husband.

In the eyes of the general public, Klein is the perfect husband who loves and cares for his wife, namely me, and respects her family. Everyone believes he's always available for me and that he treats me like I'm the most important person in his life, but that's not true. In fact, we only see eachother a few times in a month because he's always busy flying in and out of the country for his business trips.

Our relationship is harmonious, and Klein is very generous with me, but there always seems to be an invisible wall between us. It frustrates me sometimes, but I'm not discouraged. I believe I had been doing a great job and we were making progress. Now that I have him all to myself, I’ve got enough time to make him fall for me the way I fell for him.

The vibration of my cell phone jolts me awake from my drowsiness. My eyes drop down to the lit screen, praying for it to be a message from Klein, but as expected, it isn't. It's just a random social media notification. My mouth widens and a loud gasp escapes my lips when I read the time on my screen.

Nine-thirty pm.

It's nine-thirty and Klein isn't home yet. He was supposed to be back home about one hour ago. My finger starts to move as I go to my call logs. I freeze when I see his number. All I have to do is click on it and launch a call, but I hesitate to do so. Klein hates it when I ring his phone when he is attending something important.

Maybe I should wait a few more minutes.

Or maybe I should call Logan.

But then, it's nine-thirty pm and they just returned from a business trip. If they really had something urgent coming, Logan would have already let me know.

I have to call Klein directly.

Sighing heavily, I click on Klein's name in the call logs. The call connects after the third ring. I hold the phone against my ear while placing my right hand over my chest to stop my heart from crashing out of it.

Why am I so nervous about talking to my own husband?

“Klein.” I call calmly, quietly, expecting his smooth, deep voice to respond, but it doesn’t. After waiting a few seconds, I retrieve the phone from my ears and look at the screen to make sure the call is connected and it is. I place the phone back on my ear.

“Hello? Klein? Are you there?” I ask, worried. A sudden soft sound of a woman's laughter fills my ears making me freeze in shock.

“Oh, Klein…” The woman slurs over the phone. “Look at you. You're as drunk as a Lord.” A soft giggle follows that statement and I can feel the screws in my head untying themselves as I try to understand what is going on.

Who is this woman and why is she answering my husband's call?

“Excuse me, who are you?” I ask, alarmed. I'm about to set something on fire right now.

“You know it's because of you he's in this state, right?” Another voice speaks over the phone. This time around it's a man's voice. It doesn't belong to Klein, but I know whose it is.

Morgan Kelly, Klein's Best friend.

“What do you mean?” The woman asks, still giggling and I can tell she's drunk.

“He hasn't gotten drunk in like forever. I guess meeting you again has awakened some fluttering memories.”

Suddenly, the call ends, leaving a series of beeps from the receiver.

My heart starts beating crazily and I feel like everything is spinning, making me want to puke.

When I redial the number, it says the phone has been switched off.

Klein doesn’t come back home that night.