Ace paces back and forth across the floor of her little apartment. She halts and pulls her phone from her pocket, stares at it for a moment, and hits speed-dial.
The phone rings a few times and stops. She takes a breath, composing herself.
"Hey Kyntak, it's Ace-"
"The answer is no," the response is terse, and the voice is hard but Ace isn't shocked. She keeps her tone light and positive.
"That's ok, I just wanted to touch base and see if there were any updates-"
"Ace," the voice on the other end of the phone is now cold as steel and she feels something catch in her throat, "do yourself a favour. Give up. He's not coming back; he's never coming back."
Kyntak hangs up before she can even speak. The thing at the back of her throat has caught her words now too. She feels moisture at the corners of her eyes, and they start to sting as her mascara begins to run.
Ace hugs her arms to her stomach and begins to choke. She lets her back hit the wall and barely registers the fabric of her shirt scraping against her skin as she lets herself slide to the floor.
She clutches her knees to her chest and buries her face in them. She wishes her father was alive to comfort her. She wishes her step-mother was alive to comfort her. She wishes he was alive to comfort her.
On the floor of her little apartment Ace cries alone.