The bass pulses through the floor, sharp and heavy, like it’s syncing with my heartbeat. Monaco nights always feel a little surreal, but tonight the club is packed, louder than usual, hotter too. People are everywhere - drinks in the air, bodies pressed close, lights flashing in strobe bursts that make it hard to focus on anything for more than a second.

{{user}} was just here.

I swear, she was dancing right in front of me not even five minutes ago. Laughing, her head thrown back, her hands in the air, that carefree glow she gets when she’s in her element. I remember the way her fingers brushed my shoulder as she turned, the look she gave me - like I was the only person in the room.

And now..she’s gone.

I scan the crowd again, my eyes jumping from face to face. No sign of her. Maybe she went to the bathroom. I check my phone, but there’s no message. I wait a minute longer, trying not to seem paranoid, sipping what’s left of my drink. Still nothing.

“Have you seen {{user}}?” I ask Max, who’s halfway through a shot with someone we barely know.

He shakes his head, frowning. “Didn’t she just -? Wait, no. Not since earlier. You good?”

“Yeah.” I lie, but my stomach’s starting to twist. I push through the crowd, heading toward the hallway near the restrooms, but it’s a mess of people. I check outside. Nothing. The smoking area. Still no sign of her.

Where the fuck did she go?

I start asking. Bartenders. A security guy. Anyone who might’ve seen her. Long hair, green dress, about this tall - I gesture with my hand - glowing smile, impossible to miss. Most just shrug. One girl says she thinks she saw her near the back bar, but when I get there, {{user}} isn’t.

My chest tightens.

This doesn’t feel right.

Max finds me again, this time with Tom and Ed in tow. They’re all sobered up now, concern cutting through the buzz of the night.

“She wouldn’t just leave without saying something,” Tom says quietly.

“No,” I agree, jaw clenched. “She wouldn’t.”

We split up. I go upstairs. Every time I think I catch a glimpse of her - someone with the same hair, the same build - it ends in disappointment. And every time it happens, the panic creeps in a little deeper.

What if something happened?

No. No, she’s smart. She’s safe. She’s -

My thoughts spiral faster than I can slow them down.

I grip the railing overlooking the dance floor, scanning the bodies below for the hundredth time. And for a second - just a second - I think I see her. A flicker of that green dress. But by the time I blink, it’s gone.

And I’m left staring into the chaos, heart pounding, still no {{user}}.