...gets out of hand?

Saturday

Emily was up and out before I even properly woke up. I felt her kiss my forehead, heard her whisper something about seeing me tomorrow, and then the click of the front door. When I finally rolled over at nine, there was a note on her pillow.

"Gone to Jess's to get ready. Love you! Text you later."

I smiled, folded the note, and put it on my nightstand. A lazy Saturday stretched ahead of me. I texted my friend Harry: "Free today? Bachelorette party means I'm a bachelor for the day. Video games and pizza?"

He replied within seconds: "Say no more. Be there at noon."

The day was easy. Harry showed up with a six-pack and his ancient, beat-up Xbox controller that he swore was lucky. We ordered a large pepperoni and played through three different shooters, trash-talking each other and laughing at dumb jokes. I didn't check my phone much. Emily was busy, and I was busy. It was nice.

Around four, Harry pointed at my phone buzzing on the coffee table. "Your girl's been posting, huh?"

I picked it up. Instagram notification: "emilygrace just posted". I opened it.

A photo of Emily and Jess in Jess's bathroom, both in robes, hair in rollers. Emily was mid-laugh, her face half-turned to the camera. She looked so happy. The caption: "Getting ready with my favorite human. Let the chaos begin! ✨"

"She looks good," Harry said, peering over my shoulder.

"She does," I said, grinning.

I scrolled a little further. A story - a video panning across Jess's bedroom floor, covered in dresses and shoes. Emily's voice, giggling: "We have a problem." A text overlay: "Too many options."

I set the phone down and we went back to gaming.

Around seven, Harry left. I cleaned up the pizza boxes, cracked a window to air out the apartment, and settled onto the couch to scroll through Emily's posts from the day.

The first one, the bathroom shot. Then a selfie of her and Jess, both fully dressed now, makeup done. Emily was wearing a fitted black dress, simple but elegant, with a gold chain necklace, her hair down. The caption: "Pre-drinks drunk. Let's go, girls! "

Then a photo at a bar. Dim lighting, cocktails on the table. Emily was squeezed between Jess and another friend, Sarah, all of them holding glasses. Emily's caption: "Round one! Someone already spilled a drink on the bride-to-be. It's gonna be one of THOSE nights. "

Then a video clip. A karaoke room, pink and purple lights, someone belting out a song off-key. Emily's voice in the background, laughing. The caption: "Karaoke is DANGEROUS when you've had tequila shots. "

Another post. Emily and the bride, Chloe, cheek to cheek, both rosy-cheeked and grinning. Emily's caption was getting sloppier: "Chloe is the most beautiful bride ever and I LOVE HER SO MUCH."

Then a photo of the lingerie she'd bought. Just the edge of it, peeking out from her dress, a tease. The caption: "Someone dared me to show it off. Here you go, internet. ❤"

I laughed. She was so drunk and happy. I loved seeing her like this.

The last post was at 10:37 PM. A blurry photo of the karaoke screen, a song title I didn't recognize. The caption: "This song is our ANTHEM. Gonna go serenade the whole bar. Wish us luck! "

Then nothing.

I waited a few minutes, refreshing. Nothing new. She probably got swept up in the night. Or her phone finally died. That happened all the time.

I yawned, checked the time. Almost eleven. I wasn't going to wait up, she'd said she'd be out late, maybe crashing at Jess's or getting a hotel with the group. I texted her: "Looks like you're having an amazing night! Hope you're having the best time. Love you! ❤ Don't worry about texting back, just have fun!"

I brushed my teeth, climbed into bed, and was asleep within minutes.

Sunday

I woke up to pale sunlight filtering through the curtains and an empty space beside me.

The sheets were cold. Unwrinkled. Emily's pillow was still fluffed, untouched.

I blinked, sitting up slowly. Her side of the bed looked like it had been made. No phone on the nightstand. No discarded jewelry. No sign she'd been here at all.

I grabbed my phone from the charger. 9:47 AM.

No messages from Emily.

I checked our text thread. My message from last night, unread. No reply.

A small knot formed in my stomach. She'd probably stayed at Jess's. She'd warned me that might happen. I was being paranoid.

I opened Instagram to check her story.

The page loaded. And then I saw it.

A grey banner across the middle of the screen: "This account has been suspended pending review."

I stared at it. Refreshed the page. Same message. I clicked on her profile again. Nothing. Just the banner, her profile picture greyed out, her posts inaccessible.

"What the hell?"

I opened Jess's Instagram. Her account was fine. Her last post was from Friday—a photo of her lunch. Nothing about the party. No new stories.

I checked the other girls I knew were there. Sarah. Chloe. A girl named Megan. Their accounts were all active. Their last posts were from the past few days. But none of them had posted anything about last night. Not a single story, not a photo. It was like they'd all just... stopped.

I texted Jess: "Hey! Em said she might stay at yours last night. She doing okay? Her Instagram is acting weird."

No reply.

I waited ten minutes. Twenty. Nothing.

I called Emily but it just went to voicemail. Her cheerful voice: "Hey, you've reached Emily! Leave a message and I'll get back to you!"

I left a message trying to sound casual. "Hey babe, just checking in. Hope you had fun last night. Give me a call when you can. Love you."

I spent the morning pacing. Made coffee I didn't drink. Watched the clock creep past noon. I texted Jess again, then Sarah, then Chloe. No responses. Not even read receipts.

By 1:30, I was starting to imagine things. Stupid things. She got too drunk and lost her phone. She slept in and hadn't checked her messages. The Instagram thing was a glitch, a mistaken report, something automated.

But the silence from her friends was strange. Really strange.

I was just about to call Jess again when my phone buzzed.

A text from Emily.

"Heyyy - just woke up. SORRY! Last night got crazy. My phone died and I stayed at a friend's. I'm so hungover "

The knot in my stomach unraveled instantly. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

I typed back quickly: "Hey - I was worried but as long as you're okay it's all fine! Need me to come get you?"

Her reply came a few minutes later: "No it’s fine. Just gonna shower and then get an uber back probs around 3ish okay?"

"Okay. Take your time. Love you."

"Love you too "

I set my phone down, relieved. She was fine. Everything was fine.

But as I made myself a new cup of coffee, a question lingered at the back of my mind.

If she stayed at a friend's... which friend? And why was her Instagram suspended?

I shook my head. There was probably a simple explanation. She'd posted something too wild and gotten reported. It happened. Or she'd tagged the wrong person and triggered an automated flag.

I'd ask her when she got home.

I sat down with my coffee, the apartment quiet, and waited.