I nod silently, my throat dry as dust.
Before we even come to a stop, I release the seat belt. "Please wait here," I croak and open the car door.
I walk to the house on unsteady legs, only to find that Noah is apparently not here. The space in front of the door seems emptier than usual, but I can't quite put my finger on what's missing. Hastily, I retrieve the key from its hiding place in the handmade mailbox and enter the house. The large living-dining area is empty. The bathroom as well. I continue to the bedroom, but there too, I find only an abandoned bed with rumpled sheets. Just as I turn to leave, I spot an envelope on his bedside table. I step closer.
It's my letter.
How did it end up here?
Thelast time I had it was when I sat on the porch waiting for the taxi. I had tucked it under the handle of the suitcase. Perhaps it fell to the ground from there before the luggage was stowed in the trunk of the car.
Yes, that must be it.
Absentmindedly, I reach for the envelope. It's torn open, but the letter is still inside. I take it out and unfold it.
The corners of the paper are crumpled, the handwriting blurry in some places.
He has read it.
That's a positive sign. But the fact that he didn't reach out to me afterward can't mean anything good.
I feel tears welling up inside me. To prevent them from flowing, I bite down hard on my lip, place the envelope back, and make my way outside.
The fact that Noah hasn't contacted me won't stop me. Because this is about more than just me. So I continue my search. But I don't find him in his workshop either. I march to the lake and step onto the pier. His boat rocks untouched in the water.
On my way back to the taxi, I look around multiple times, but among the fir trees, only a rabbit hurriedly hops away on the mossy forest floor.
I walk toward the car. "To the mountain rescue center, please," I say before sliding back into the passenger seat.
About ten minutes later, we arrive at the large semi-circular wooden building with its expansive glass front. I rush inside and come across Noah's colleague, whom I already know from the practice and Hanna's birthday party. Breathlessly, I ask her if she knows where Noah is.
She contorts her face thoughtfully. "No idea. He took the whole week off."
Great.
Hanna is my next hope. So I have the taxi driver take me to her place.
Once again, I ask him to wait for me. Instead of knocking, I go directly around the house, searching for Hanna in her beloved garden. There, amid the tall sunflowers, I spot her with a tattered straw hat atop her wild mane and a strangely wistful smile on her face.
"Hey, Hanna," I call out to her from a distance, and even though I'm sure she notices me, I still wave to her.
She startles for a moment, then quickly raises her arm. "You're back?" As I approach her, I notice a longing shimmer in her eyes. "Have you reconciled?"
"No." I slump my shoulders heavily. "But soon. Hopefully."
"How can I help?" She cuts off one of the lavish golden flower heads with her garden shears and carefully places it in a shallow basket.
"I need to find Noah. Do you know where he is?" Please, she must know. I press my palms together.
She shrugs. "You know Noah."
What does she mean by that? I look at her questioningly.
"He keeps everyone at a distance. And especially since you left…" Her apologetic gaze says more than any words could.
"When was the last time you spoke to him?" I try again, simply because I don't know what else to do.
A sad expression crosses her face. "Yesterday. After days of searching for him in vain."
