The Debt Bride

Chapter Forty-Two

  The next morning, Rhysand awoke to the shrill sound of the alarm clock piercing through his restless sleep.

Instinctively, he reached out to Amy's side of the bed, "Amy turn it off!", mumbling for her to turn it off, but his hand met only the cold emptiness of the sheets.

  Reality crashed down upon him as he opened his eyes to the vacant spot beside him. The stark reminder of her absence sent a pang of longing through his chest, as if a part of his very soul was missing.

  He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the events of the previous day. He could still see the hurt in Amy's eyes, hear the tremor in her voice as she questioned his intentions.

  The house felt eerily silent, devoid of the comforting sounds of her morning routine. Every fiber of his being ached for her presence, her laughter, the warmth of her touch. The bed, once a sanctuary of their shared intimacy, now felt like a vast expanse of loneliness.

  Rhysand dragged himself out of bed, his movements mechanical and devoid of purpose. The aroma of coffee, usually a welcoming scent, now seemed bitter without her to share it with. He stood in the kitchen, staring blankly at the empty cup in his hand, memories of their mornings together flooding his mind.

  The playful banter, the stolen kisses, the simple joy of just being together – all seemed like a distant dream. His heart yearned for her, the longing almost unbearable.

  Across town, Amy sat in her childhood bedroom, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort. Her father's words of caution and concern echoed in her mind, but they did nothing to quell the ache in her heart.

  She missed Rhysand desperately, every moment apart a painful reminder of their separation. She remembered the way he looked at her, with such intensity and love, the way he made her feel cherished and safe. The confusion and anger she felt had given way to an overwhelming sense of loss.

  Amy hugged her knees to her chest, her thoughts consumed by the man she loved. She missed the way his arms enveloped her, the feel of his lips against her skin, the sound of his heartbeat when she rested her head on his chest.

  The nights without him were the hardest, the loneliness seeping into her dreams, leaving her restless and yearning. She wanted nothing more than to run to him, to hold him, to hear him say that everything would be alright.

  As the day wore on, Rhysand tried to immerse himself in work, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Amy. Every task, every conversation felt meaningless without her.

  His heart ached with the need to see her, to explain, to make things right. He missed the sound of her laughter, the way she brightened his darkest days, the connection they shared that went beyond words. He felt lost without her, his world grayer and colder.

  Amy too struggled to focus, her thoughts constantly returning to Rhysand. She missed the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her, the softness in his voice when he spoke her name. Every memory of their time together was tinged with a bittersweet longing. She wanted to believe in their love, to trust in the bond they shared, but the doubts planted by Gakxel's betrayal gnawed at her. Despite it all, her heart yearned for him, the pull of their connection undeniable.

  That night, as Rhysand lay in the empty bed, he closed his eyes and pictured Amy beside him. He could almost feel her warmth, hear her soft breathing. The longing in his heart was a physical ache, a pain that only her presence could soothe. He whispered her name into the darkness, hoping that somehow, she could hear him.

  In her father's home, Amy too lay awake, her thoughts filled with Rhysand. She missed him desperately, every part of her yearning to be with him. Their separation was a torment, but in their hearts, they both held on to the hope that love would bring them back together.