June 2012. It had been a full month since Gaby handed me Jessica’s diary.

  I had taken the white notebook, shoved it into the darkest corner of my closet, and buried it under a pile of heavy winter coats. I hadn't read a single word of it. I wasn't ready to face the truth, and I was desperately trying to convince myself that I could build a real life with Gaby instead.

  "Baby! What do you think?" Gaby beamed, pulling me into the kitchen.

  I looked around. The counters were completely bare. The space was pristine, spotless, and deeply sanitized.

  "Where are the utensils, babe?" I asked, a slight frown tugging at my lips.

  Her smile widened, vibrating with nervous, eager energy. She opened one of the rge overhead cabinets. "Ta-da!!"

  My eyes widened. "Wow." I was genuinely impressed. Every spatu, whisk, and spoon was meticulously organized by size and color. " I love how you arranged it. You really made the pce look perfect"

  She giggled, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist and clinging to me.

  "Thank you, babe," I murmured, leaning down to press a hollow kiss to her forehead. "Since you've been working so hard, I think you deserve some ice cream today."

  "Yes!!! Let me go change my clothes! Five minutes, baby!" She dashed enthusiastically toward the bedroom.

  I leaned heavily against the cold marble of the kitchen isnd, letting out a long, ragged exhale. Fuck. I looked around the spotless kitchen. I should be happy. She was the perfect girlfriend. But all I could see was that she was methodically scrubbing away every st lingering trace of Jessica's chaotic, messy ghost.

  I felt absolutely nothing.

  *

  After taking a long, picturesque stroll through the city park, we stopped at a local ice cream parlor. I bought her a rge scoop of bright pink strawberry, and I ordered my usual: a simple scoop of vanil.

  We found a secluded bench under the shade of an oak tree. For some reason, Gaby was absolutely obsessed with strawberry. It was almost funny how silent and hyper-focused she became whenever she was eating it.

  "Gaby, why do you look so damn serious when you eat ice cream?" I chuckled, watching her tongue dart out to catch a drip.

  She just gnced up at me, her brown eyes dark and calcuting, and went back to licking her cone.

  "See?" I giggled.

  "It’s tasty, you know! Strawberry is the absolute best fvor!" she pouted, suddenly pointing her finger at my hand. "Why do you always order pin vanil?"

  "Heh. Well, I just like the taste of—"

  Before I could finish my sentence, she lunged sideways, ramming her shoulder hard against my bicep. My hand jerked, and the scoop of vanil ice cream popped out of the cone, spttering violently onto the hot pavement.

  "Hey! Babe! You made my ice cream fall!" I protested, staring at the melting white puddle.

  She didn't apologize. Instead, she climbed directly into my p, straddling my thighs on the park bench, and smashed her mouth against mine. Her lips were freezing cold, flooding my mouth with the overpowering, artificial sweetness of strawberry.

  She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. "It tastes good, right?" she whispered fiercely. "Strawberry is so much tastier than pin vanil, baby."

  It wasn't about the ice cream. She was trying to overwrite my senses. She knew vanil was Jessica's scent.

  She crashed her lips back against mine, grinding her hips down against my p. We made out wildly, entirely uncaring of the families walking on the path nearby. I could feel her heavy, wet heat pressing directly against my growing bulge.

  "Baby, I’m horny. Let’s fuck again. Somewhere unusual," she whispered, her breath hot against my neck.

  She grabbed my hand and dragged me off the path, pulling me into a heavily wooded, secluded patch of the park. It was hidden by the brush, but anyone walking closely by would easily hear us. That was the point.

  I fucked her ruthlessly against the trunk of a tree. My hands wrapped tightly around her throat, choking off her air, while my other hand cmped violently over her mouth to muffle her loud, feral moans. I bent her spine back, drilling into her with brutal, punishing force. It didn’t take long for her legs to completely give out. She trembled violently, squirting hot fluid down my thighs. Afterward, she dropped to her scraped knees in the dirt and took my entire load deep down her throat.

  She clung to my arm the entire walk home, looking blissfully high. My lust was satisfied, but the bleeding void in my chest hadn't shrunk a single inch.

  And the terrifying part was, this was becoming our normal. We had already desecrated a cafe restroom, the back row of a movie theater, and a private booth at an expensive restaurant. Even the upholstery of my car permanently smelled like sex and desperation.

  *

  We had formalized our domestic routine. Gaby sternly commanded the morning chores and breakfast, while I took over the afternoon cooking and dishwashing. I pyed my role perfectly, rewarding her obsessive tidiness with my attention.

  "Baby... are you done?" a soft, highly seductive voice purred from the hallway.

  I turned around from the sink, drying my hands on a towel. "Oh my God."

  Gaby was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but an intricate harness of bck ce straps that barely covered her modesty. She had let her dark hair fall loose over her shoulders, and her eyes burned with dark, submissive lust. "You’re killing me, babe."

  She giggled softly. "Look." She turned around, proudly showing off her massive curves. She had inserted a butt plug with a dark, furry tail attached to the base, resting perfectly between her cheeks.

  "Fuck, babe."

  She reached out, grabbing the colr of my t-shirt. "Let’s go back to our nest, baby."

  The violent public sex in the park clearly hadn't been enough to numb either of us. We fucked again that night. This time, it was endlessly harder. I yanked the butt plug out and drilled both of her holes back and forth, pushing her physical limits until she was screaming in pure, agonizing ecstasy. We completely ruined the fresh, clean bedsheets she had just put on that morning, turning the mattress into a slick battlefield. After forcing her through multiple, exhausting orgasms, I finally finished deep inside her.

  We didn't even bother cleaning up. We stayed tangled in the messy sheets, cuddling in the dark until the morning light broke, just like we always did.

  For a normal man, this was the ultimate fantasy. She was gorgeous, fiercely loyal, intelligent, and actively prioritized my darkest sexual desires over her own comfort.

  But as I y awake, staring bnkly at the high ceiling of the loft, I felt absolutely... nothing. There was no spark in my chest. I felt like a dead man trapped in a walking corpse. I felt like my soul had already been stolen and dragged away by a ghost.

  And as I closed my eyes, desperately trying to sleep, the artificial scent of strawberry faded away. The only thing my sensory memory could process was the faint, lingering scent of vanil.

  **

  Bzzt. Bzzt.

  My phone vibrated violently against the kitchen counter while I was busy restocking the fridge with beer the next morning. When I saw the screen, a massive, genuine hit of adrenaline spiked in my veins. Nikoy. I had never felt this happy to receive a phone call. For an entire month, the Russian crew had been buried in their summer jobs, leaving me stranded in this domestic prison.

  "Derro!!! My Brotha!!" Nikoy's loud, booming voice shattered the quiet loft.

  I chuckled, a real, authentic sound. "Hello! It seems your shift is finally over, eh?"

  "Derro! We will never speak of this corporate svery again! I deeply regret accompanying Boris to this job! Bah! It is physically exhausting!"

  I ughed loudly. "You have the endless energy to party all night long, but you have no energy to work a simple job for just a few hours?"

  "Blyad! You do not even work, Derro! You can’t lecture me!"

  "Alright, alright," I smiled. "So, what’s up, Broda?"

  "Well, Derro. Since you have been constantly asking me to find a party for a whole month... this time, your greatest party-finder brings you incredible news!"

  My heart hammered. I desperately needed a distraction from the loft. "Oh?? When?"

  "Tomorrow night!! 8:00 PM sharp!"

  "Perfect. I’ll absolutely be there tomorrow."

  "So.. Derro." Nikoy paused. His chaotic energy vanished, repced instantly by a cold, serious tone. "Are you still with that Latina girl?"

  "Yeah," I answered defensively. "What’s wrong?"

  " Is she coming to the club, too?"

  "Of course! She’ll come wherever I go. Why? Do you miss her?" I joked, trying to deflect the sudden tension.

  "No, Broda. But I want you to ask her first, yeah? Do not force her to join the party."

  My jaw tightened. "Don’t worry, Broda! She’ll come."

  "Heh. I see," Nikoy muttered darkly. "Well, do not forget. Tomorrow, 8:00 PM sharp! And ask her first, Derro! I’m serious."

  "Chill out, Broda! See you tomorrow."

  I hung up the phone, chuckling under my breath. It was hirious that Nikoy still thought Gaby was some fragile, shy girl who needed protecting. He had no idea what kind of wild, submissive monster she had become. The news of the party completely hyped me up. I couldn't wait for tomorrow night.

  The alcohol, the deafening music, the chaotic exhibitionism... this was exactly the fix I needed.

  **

  "Babe, I’m back."

  Silence. The loft was completely still. I set the heavy paper grocery bags down on the marble kitchen isnd, my eyes automatically scanning the pristine, tidy corners of the living room.

  "Gaby?"

  I walked down the hall and pushed the bedroom door open. Gaby wasn't there. But my eyes immediately locked onto something lying perfectly ft across the center of the freshly made duvet.

  It was a dress. A sleek, navy-blue, backless cocktail dress made of heavy silk.

  I frowned, stepping closer. It was highly unusual for Gaby to go shopping without me. Since moving in, she had practically glued herself to my side. I reached out and flipped over the small cardboard price tag still dangling from the strap.

  580.00.

  My jaw tightened. Gaby was a freshman living off a basic meal pn. She didn't have nearly six hundred dolrs to blow on a single piece of silk. Where the hell did she get the money for this? Who bought this for her?

  I carefully set the tag down, leaving the dress in its exact position, and backed out of the room.

  I grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, unlocked the heavy gss doors, and stepped out onto the balcony. I colpsed onto the floor cushions and sparked a cigarette. It had been weeks since I had sat out here alone. I pulled my phone from my pocket and shot Gaby a quick text, reminding her that we had to leave for the underground club by 8:00 PM.

  I stared out at the Chicago skyline, a hollow chuckle escaping my lips. "What a fucking weird feeling."

  I reached over and picked up my acoustic guitar from its stand. I rested it on my knee and blindly began strumming the old, mencholic chords I used to py st winter. I let the music blend with the distant sirens of the city and the thick gray smoke from my cigarette. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath of the cold air, letting the faint, sweet scent of vanil fill my lungs...

  My fingers froze on the guitar strings.

  Wait. The music died. I inhaled sharply. The subtle, unmistakable scent of vanil perfume was lingering heavily in the air right in front of my face.

  Wait! I dropped the guitar onto the cushions and violently scrambled to my feet. I threw the gss doors open and rushed back inside the loft. I tore through the living room, the kitchen, and the mini-library, my heart hammering a frantic, desperate rhythm against my ribs. I was searching every shadow, desperately praying it wasn't just an illusion.

  But the loft was completely, utterly empty.

  I grabbed my own hair, pulling hard. Fuck. My broken brain was just pying sick psychological tricks on me. The grief was making me hallucinate smells now.

  I walked slowly back out to the balcony. The vanil scent had already been swallowed by the city wind.

  Beep-click!

  The heavy deadbolt of the front door turned. I stepped back inside, waiting for the usual, cheerful "Baby, I'm home!" There was no greeting. Just the quiet thud of the door shutting.

  I walked out of the kitchen and into the entryway. "Gaby?"

  She was standing with her back pressed ft against the metal door. Her face was pale and drawn tight with anxiety. Her fingers were trembling, fidgeting violently with the strap of her purse. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

  "Hey," I said, my voice dropping into a low, cautious register. "What happened, babe? Where are you coming from?"

  She flinched at my voice. Suddenly, she lunged forward, throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face into my chest. "I love you, baby," she whispered, her voice cracking with raw, desperate panic.

  "Hey, what’s wrong?" I grabbed her shoulders, trying to push her back gently to read her face.

  She resisted, hugging me incredibly tight, hiding her eyes against my shirt. I sighed, my eyes narrowing in suspicion as my hand slowly stroked her dark hair. "What happened to you, babe? Is something wrong?"

  "No, baby!" she lied, her voice muffled against my chest. "I just... I just really wanted to hold you."

  "Where have you been all afternoon?"

  "… I just went for a walk outside... to meet a friend," she stammered.

  "Okay?" I asked, my tone fttening. A friend who buys you 600 dresses?

  "… Yeah."

  Her body nguage was screaming at me. She was terrified. Was she trying to py some pathetic game to make me jealous? Or did something genuinely dangerous just happen to her out there?

  "Fine, babe," I said coldly. I gripped her arms and firmly pushed her back, forcing her to look at me. Her brown eyes were wide and evasive. "But if something actually happened, you know you can talk to me, right?"

  She nodded quickly, refusing to hold my gaze.

  I let go of her arms and seamlessly slid the charming mask back over my face. "Alright. Let’s get ready. You didn't forget we have Nikoy's party tonight, right?"

  Her bright, warm smile instantly returned, though it looked brittle and entirely manufactured. "Of course not!"

  "Alright, go get ready, babe. We can’t be te, or the Russians will lock us out."

  "Don’t worry! And I bought something really nice to wear for you, baby!" she said, her voice pitching up with fake cheerfulness as she practically ran past me toward the safety of the bedroom.

  I stood perfectly still in the hallway, my jaw clenched tight. What the fuck is she hiding?

  I opened the front door and stepped out into the quiet corridor. I looked down the hall toward the elevators. There was nothing. No unusual sounds, no lingering footsteps, no trace of anyone following her home.

  I stepped back inside and locked the deadbolt. She had mysteriously acquired an incredibly expensive dress, she was acting completely terrified, and her timeline made absolutely zero sense. My mind raced, coldly dissecting her every move. The paranoia was setting in.

  But as I walked back toward the kitchen, a darker realization stopped me in my tracks.

  Why do I even care? I stared at my reflection in the dark oven gss. Am I actually worried about her safety… or am I just terrified someone might steal her from me, too? Fuck.