Note from Riottori: This next segment is from Christian's POV as many of you have requested. I hope you enjoy it. That's all for tonight as I'm off out to remember what 3-dimensional people look like! I promise I will post more tomorrow. Sweet dreams.

I've had three days of dark since she left me. I'm sure the sun has risen, made its familiar trajectory across the sky, East to West, it's just I haven't been aware of it, haven't been affected by it. The rays have failed to touch me. I am living in a world blanched of colour, a sepia hell of my own making. A world without light, without my Ana.

What have I done?

She stood abruptly before me, as my hand held out an oyster, pain looming black in her irises, darkening the brilliant blue of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. "How could you Christian? How could you do this to me? After everything we've been through?" I wondered if she'd slapped me, actually made physical contact with me. But she hadn't. It was just her words that had ricocheted off my body, tattooing my skin with small scars.

I took a breath to say her name, call her to me, stop her from slipping away. It hung heavy on my lips: Ana. Desperation ran deep through the two syllables: Please, please...

I tried to focus on what she was saying, the fate that she would decide. Would we live or die? Oh, God. What had I done?

"I want you to remember this. Remember this feeling," I wanted to move, move towards her, but my fear paralyzed me, rooted me to my spot on the chair. "When you're at work, remember me," her words like a curse, the final fairy in Sleeping Beauty. "When you're at home, remember me. Remember us," I was finding it hard to breathe, "what we were, what we had." I noted the past tense with a rising panic. No, Ana, please. "What you ended. Goodbye, Sir." I had ended my own world and I only had myself to blame. After that, came the dark.

Taylor enters the office and I look up expectantly. He shakes his head, no. The noise that escapes me is animalistic, raw in its frustration.

"Where the fuck is she?" I shout. "Ana, where are you?"

By the time I had found my feet and lurched out of Lorenzo's, she had gone. I had driven that night – why had I driven and not Taylor? Maybe things would be different now – and I spent the night like a thief skulking round the streets, looking for her, trying to get back what was mine. When the bleaching dawn began to paint the sky, robbing it of its dusky hue, I drove home, defeated, exhausted. I had done all I could and it wasn't enough. I would wait for her at the Penthouse, our house. I would wait for my wife to return.

I punch Teddy's number into the phone, feel my anxiety rising with each tinny ring. I cast my eyes skyward, a silent supplication as I wait.

"Teddy-boy," I say when my son finally answers.

"Dad," he says. He sounds sleepy and young. "What time is it?"

I realise I have no idea. Days meld into nights meld into days again. A wide expanse of waiting gapes in front of me, a chasm with no horizon, no end. Time is meaningless, inconsequential. It will start again when she returns. God! How did I not know it would feel like this?

"A little after 8," I say. "Sorry if I woke you."

"It's OK," he says, swallowing his words in a large yawn. "What's up?" I check for anger in his voice, something to show he's spoken to his mother and knows what's happened. I feel off-balance and unsure. Ana and I always liked to be on the same page when it came to the kids. I didn't know how to handle this.

"Nothing," I say. "I just wanted to say hi. Hi." I laugh, an empty sound which hangs heavy in the air. "Have you spoken to your mother recently?" I try for non-chalance but I'm sure the cracks can be heard in my words.

"Yeah, yesterday, nah, two days ago. Why? Is something up?"

I rush to reassure him. "No, it's just that I'm in Escala and she's at home. I had some business in the city and didn't want to rely on Taylor so I stayed here. I'll probably head over this afternoon." The lies tumble from my mouth.

I hear Teddy yawn again. "I'll phone you later," I promise. "Teddy, did she..." I don't know how to finish this sentence. Teddy, did she say where she was? Teddy, did she seem OK to you? Teddy, did she sound like she was as desperate as I am? But the words are stuck in my throat. He is my son and his protection is paramount. I can't let him into my circle of worry, not just yet.

"I'll phone you later." But I've already lost my son to sleep.