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They should have noticed.
Carlas decline hadn't been subtle, she’d been unraveling in plain sight.
It started the day Becky walked back into Lisa and Betsys life, her eyes had dimmed as she watched her fiancé, the love of her life, tell someone else that they were the love of their life.
And from that day, the signs only multiplied.
Carla began to smile less. Not out of spite or pettiness, but because her face genuinely forgot how. Her usual spark, her wide smiles, the quick witter wry grin that Lisa once said she loved most, dimmed until it was nothing more than a tired curve of the lips when she could bother pretending.
Even her laugh changed. It used to burst out of her freely, bright and loud daily, now it slipped out thin and hollow.
Her shoulders curled inward more each day, as if she was trying to protect herself. Her eyes lost that warm, playful shine and took on a constant sheen of exhaustion, like she hadn’t slept in weeks. And maybe she hadn’t, not properly. Not since Becky became a fixture within her home, since she started leaving toothbrushes and sweaters and socks lying around Carlas usual pristine house like she was reclaiming lost territory.
Carla grew quieter, too. At first it was soft hesitations, pausing before speaking, biting back words that she knew wouldn’t be welcomed. Then it turned into full silences, where Carla would open her mouth as if to say something, only to close it again because Becky had jumped in, or Lisa had shifted her attention, or she simply lost the will to compete to be heard against the smarmy sound of Becky.
The couch became her exile. She’d sit there, shrinking into the cushion, watching her fiancée entertain her no longer dead wife like they were reliving golden years, cooking and drinking and laughing together around the kitchen island with Betsy.
Carla would fold her hands tightly in her lap to stop them from trembling, stare down at her knees so no one could see her eyes burning, and pretend that she didn’t feel like a stranger in her own living room, sidelined, an outsider looking in on what had just a few months ago being her life.
And Lisa… she didn’t see it, or pretended not to see it, the way Carla stiffened every time Becky brushed past her, the way her breath caught whenever Lisa laughed a little too freely at Becky’s stories of their shared past, the way her fingers twisted anxiously around each other until her knuckles turned white.
She didn’t see the way Carla’s spark was being chipped away by her actions, or inactions when it came to allowing Becky to walk all over her.
Then came the subtle invasions.
Becky, smirking, borrowing Lisa’s dressing gown and leaving it draped over the back of the sofa.
Becky helping herself to Carla’s favorite mug, her usual mug, like it meant nothing.
Becky sprawled casually on the couch in the mornings, lounging in a duvet, where Carla usually curled against Lisa.
Becky in the kitchen with Lisa and Betsy, laughing over old memories, backs turned after a casual “morning” as though Carla was an afterthought, an unwelcome guest.
Carla felt her own heartbeat stutter in her chest every time she found something new out of place, clutter on her tables, dishes in the sink, her home steadily turning into someone else’s.
Her house no longer felt like a home, it felt like a stage to what could have, or should have, been.
And she became anxious. So anxious her stomach twisted into knots every morning. So anxious she chewed at her lower lip until it bled. So anxious she’d lie awake at night staring at the ceiling while Lisa slept back turned, wondering if Lisa still loved her or if she was simply waiting to find a way to end things.
She tried to tell her, had told her that she felt like she was losing her.
But Lisa had fobbed her off, with words that were were meant to soothe and reassure, but her actions didn’t match and they cut the last thread holding Carla together.
Reassurance didn’t explain why Lisa leaned into Becky’s stories with that nostalgic glow in her eyes. Didn’t explain why Carla suddenly felt like she was fighting for space that used to be hers without question. Didn’t explain why the house felt tighter, colder, smaller.
Carla tried, God, she tried, to be understanding. To be supportive. To be the easygoing fiancée who didn’t feel threatened by the blast from the past lodging herself into their routines.
But the stress gnawed at her relentlessly. She started eating less. Talking less. Laughing never.
Her hands shook constantly, tiny tremors she hid in her sleeves or beneath blankets. Her heart raced constantly like she was bracing for impact. Her eyes were always glassy, always tired, always on the verge of tears she refused to let fall.
And still, still, no one but Ryan and Roy asked if she was okay. Her fiancé didn’t see it, Betsy didn’t care, Becky thrived on it.
Not one of them said, “Carla, you don’t seem like yourself.”
No one noticed she was crumbling.
Tonight, she sat alone on the couch again. Lisa had left with Becky and Betsy, for a ‘family meal’ that she’d been absently invited to as a second thought, the way Betsy had said it implied she very much wasn’t welcome. Lisa didn’t push when she’d declined, just said okay and walked out without a second glance.
Carla’s chest had ached.
The empty silence of the house was suffocating.
Her vision trembled. Her breath hitched in shallow, uneven gasps. She pressed a shaking hand over her mouth, trying to keep the sob from escaping, but it didn’t matter. The ache was too heavy, too loud, too much.
Until suddenly it wasn’t, it was like a bucket of ice poured over her, numbness. Clarity. A thread of a though that bloomed and blossomed until it was her inly focus.
She grabbed her jacket, barely aware of her own movements, her mind buzzing with one desperate, reckless thought. I don’t want to be here anymore.
Her keys were cold in her hands, slipping through trembling fingers as she fumbled with them. She picked them up, her breath shaky, her cheeks wet without her noticing when the tears had fallen.
The pain was louder than reason.
She walked out the door. Into the night. Into the cold. Into something reckless and impulsive and dangerous in all the wrong ways because hurt people don’t think straight. They don’t make safe choices.
She hesitated for a long moment in front of Roys. Her chest hurt, like something sharp was lodged under her ribs, but she forced herself to breathe through it. She didn’t want to fall apart here. Not in front of him. Didn’t want him to stop her, not this tome.
But she needed to see him.
Just once, before she. No. She couldn’t think the word. Even in her mind it sounded too final.
She just needed to go.
The door creaked as she stepped through, knowing she was always welcome.
“Carla?” His voice was soft with surprise, then concern instantly clouded his features when he saw her face. “Carla, what on earth…?”
She didn’t give him the chance to finish. Carla stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. It wasn’t something she did often, not like this, but she held him tightly, like she was afraid she’d disappear if she let go.
Roy stiffened, startled, then he hugged her back awkwardly, hand patting her shoulder.
“Carla,” he murmured, “What’s happened? You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Carla swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice.
“Nothin’. I just… I just wanted to see you.”
Roy tried to pull back to look at her properly, but she held on a little longer before she finally let him go. Her eyes were glassy, her breathing uneven. She hated that he could see all of it.
“You know I’m always here for you,” Roy said quietly. “Always. You just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I just needed someone on my side tonight.”
Roy’s brow furrowed deeper. “Does this have anything to do with Becky and Lisa?”
“It’s fine,” Carla cut in, too quickly, too forced. “It’s all fine.” But her voice cracked, betraying her.
Roy reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Carla, look at me. Whatever it is, you are not alone.”
She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I know.” Her throat tightened painfully. “I love you, Roy.”
His face softened instantly but worry was etched into every line. “I love you too, Carla. You know that.”
Carla nodded, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from breaking l, to keep from second guessing her choice. She took a step back.
Roy looked at her closely. “Carla… where are you going?”
She forced a smile, small, brittle, breaking at the edges. “I just needed to see you. That’s all.”
Before he could protest, she turned and headed out, Roy called her, but she didn’t look back, she had one more person to see.
Ryans eyes narrowed in worry as Carla stepped into the hotel.
“What are you doing here?.”
Carla swallowed hard. “Hey you, just thought I’d bob in and see you.”
“Well I’ll never complain about that. You okay?”
She reached out, pulled him into a quick hug, too quick, almost like she was afraid she’d lose her nerve if she lingered.
“You’re too good to me you. My beautiful boy, I love you, you know that right?” she murmured.
Ryan stiffened, alarm bells ringing in his chest.
“I love you too but what’s brought this on.“
“Nothing, I just wanted you to know. You enjoy the rest of your shift, alright.”
She didn’t look back as she walked away, ignoring Ryans shout for her to wait.
She got into the car, shut the door, and drove out before he could stop her. Ryan stood there in the cold, heart thudding.
Something was wrong, something was really, really wrong.
He pulled his phone out immediately and dialed Lisa. Straight to voicemail. He tried again.
Nothing.
“Come on, Lisa, pick up,” he muttered anxiously, pacing in a tight circle. “Something’s not right. Something’s really not right.”
He tried one more time, his hands trembling.
Still no answer.
Something twisted in his stomach, something worse than worry. Something he remembered from before, from the last time Carla went quiet and brittle and too calm before everything snapped around her.
His pulse kicked up.
He didn’t waste time.
He ran.
Not after her, he knew he’d never catch up. Instead he sprinted straight to Roy’s, slipping on the wet pavement, stumbling, breath burning in his chest.
Roy was still standing in the open doorway, arms folded tightly, staring out into the dark like he’d been trying to make sense of it.
“Roy!” Ryan gasped, skidding to a stop.
Roy turned sharply. One look at Ryan’s face wide-eyed, pale and Roy’s stomach sank.
“She came to see you too,” Roy said quietly.
Ryan nodded, still breathless. “She pretended she was fine, but she’s not. She’s not, Roy, she looked like she was about to break in two.”
Roy closed his eyes for a moment. “I could see something was wrong the second she walked in. She hugged me like she was saying goodbye.”
Ryan swallowed hard. “She drove off before I could stop her.” His voice cracked. “She wouldn’t tell me where she was going.”
Roy’s heart thudded painfully against his ribs.
“She said she loved me,” he whispered, the words almost choking him. “It’s not often she says that. Not out of the blue.”
Ryan’s face drained of color. The two men stared at each other. Neither said the word that hung between them.
They knew she’d slipped into that terrifying, unreachable space where her thoughts knotted themselves into something unrecognisable. When the world twisted and she couldn’t find her way back.
They both knew the signs. And they’d both not been able to see them quick enough this time.
Roy reached for his coat with trembling hands. “We need to find her.”
Ryan nodded tightly, already pulling out his phone. “I’ll ring Lisa again, if she doesn’t answer we call the police.”
He dialed. The tone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Straight to voicemail.
Ryan hissed in frustration. “Come on, Lisa, where the hell are you?” He tried again. Nothing. He stared at the screen, jaw clenched. “I swear if this is because of her and fucking Becky...”
Roy locked the café door behind them, worry carved deep into his face. “We’ll try her again later. Call the police, Carla’s on her own somewhere, and she’s not in a good way.”
Ryan nodded, already spinning toward the street. “What do we do? Where do we even look?”
They split off, each heading in different directions. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Ryan felt sick, physically sick with fear.
He had seen Carla struggling for weeks.
He had watched her shrink.
He had watched her smile fade.
He had watched Becky slide into their home like a shadow swallowing the light.
And now he realised he hadn’t said enough, hadn’t done enough.
Not really.
Not when it mattered.
He tried Lisa again.
Voicemail.
“Lisa!” he snapped into the phone when the beep sounded. “It’s Ryan, call me back as soon as you get this. It’s Carla. She’s… she’s in a bad way. I don’t know where she’s gone.”
He hung up and swallowed hard, checking underworld and swearing when she wasn’t there.
Meanwhile, Roy walked quickly down the dim street, phone pressed to his ear. He tried Carla’s number again, even though he knew she wouldn’t answer. She never answered when she was like this, when everything inside her got too loud to hear anything else.
Her voicemail kicked in.
Roy closed his eyes as her recorded voice filled his ear, lighter, happier, the Carla she’d once been before Becky had returned.
When the beep sounded, his voice shook.
“Carla. Wherever you are, please… please just ring me back. I’m here. You’re not on your own, no matter what’s going on in your mind. Just call me. Please.”
He hung up, chest tight. He feared, deeply, that she wouldn’t call.
A few hours later, they’d returned to the café, Roy sitting at a table he hadn’t cleaned, staring into a cup of cold tea.
Ryan was pacing the length of the room, running his hands through his hair, muttering to himself.
His heart lurched as Kit knocked at the door, he stood in the doorway for a moment, hat in hand, trying to assemble the words into something that wouldn’t break them. There was no way.
“The team traced her phone as a favour, it pinged at dovestone reservoir . When they searched, they found someone.”
Roys knuckles whitened around the mug he hadn’t touched. “Is it her?” he whispered.
Kit inhaled. “Yes. It was Carla.”
Silence cracked like a fault line. Ryan finally looked up, confusion still flickering behind the shock. “Found? What do you mean found?”
“I’m sorry,” Kit said, and the apology was real and heavy. “She’d already passed when they reached her.” He swallowed. “There was nothing we could do.”
Ryans breath caught, turning into a sound somewhere between a sob and an exhale. Roy stood suddenly, pacing, hands on his head.
“No. No, I should have made her stay. I shouldn’t have let her leave.”
Kit didn’t try to soothe them, some grief didn’t want soothing. He let them break the way they needed to break. When Ryans face fell into his hands, Kit reached out briefly and touched his shoulder.
“I’ll stay as long as you need,” he said. “But I also have to speak with Lisa. She should hear it from me.”
Ryan let out a bitter laugh. “Good luck getting a hold of her, she’s probably with Becky. This is all her fault.”
Kit gave a soft, tired sigh, privately agreeing. “I’ll see you both soon.”
Lisa finally saw the missed calls when she walked through the doors of number six, plugging her phone into the charger.
Her phone buzzed relentlessly.
Nineteen missed calls.
Eight voicemails.
Texts from Ryan. From Roy. Even from Kit.
Her stomach tightened.
She pressed play on the first voicemail.
“Lisa, it’s Ryan, ring me back, it’s about Carla…”
Her blood ran cold.
She played the next one.
“Lisa, please, it’s urgent.”
Her hands shook. She tried calling Ryan immediately. He declined the call after the first ring.
Lisa felt the floor drop beneath her as there was a sharp knock at the door, paying no mind to Becky heaving herself up from the sofa to answer it as though she actually lived there.
Lisa felt something shatter behind her ribs as Kit asked Betsy to go upstairs, taking notice of the uniformed officer at his side.
“Kit? Is everything okay, is Becky safe, have the gang found her?”
She absently grasped Beckys shaking hand, mistaking her trembling as fear of the gang rather than fear that she was about to be exposed and arrested.
Kit tried to hide his disgust at the display but couldn’t quite do so, had she not even realised Carla was in a place so dark that she’d even think about this?
“Lisa, Ryan and Roy called raising well fare concerns for Carla tonight. I tried to call you but you didn’t answer, so I traced Carlas phone. She was found at Dovestone reservoir. I’m sprry Lisa, but we were too late. She’s gone.”
Kit wished he didn’t have to watch the realisation unfold.
Lisa blinked, once, twice, as if trying to clear fog from her vision. “Gone? No. No, she can’t be. I would’ve known. I should’ve.” Her breath hitched, both hand raising to cover her face as sobs shook her whole frame.
Becky’s lips twitched upward.
A smirk.
A tiny, satisfied curl that wasn’t missed by Kit.
Becky slung her arms around her shoulders, completely unbothered. “It’s okay. Ssshhh. Sssshh. You and me, Lis. We’re still here, together. Like it should’ve been.” She smiled, almost sweetly, unable to hide her narcissism in the face of what she saw as a huge win. “You’ll get through this, we’ll get through this. Me, you and Bets, our family is still together. We’re all still here and safe.”
Lisa recoiled like she’d been slapped. She felt sick.
Physically sick.
She thought back to every moment where she’d tried to manage everyone at once, tried to keep Becky safe, Betsy happy but what had she done for Carla?
How had she not realised how bad it was, how had the love of her life felt so low, so abandoned that she felt she had no other choice.
She should have noticed, should have done something, before letting Carla fade away.