She opened her phone slowly, the weight of it heavier than it should have been in her hand. The screen lit up instantly, casting a soft glow across her face in the dim apartment. The familiar home screen blurred for a moment as her eyes landed on the banner at the top: Messages – Nicky.
His name hit her like a gut punch.
She tapped the notification and her messaging app opened in a quiet bloom of panic and longing. Her breath hitched.
Three missed calls. All from him. Two in the early hours of the morning. One just before noon. They sat there, lined up in grim order like a quiet reminder of something she was trying too hard to forget.
And then there were the voice messages. There were multiple and hours apart but she only opened one.
Her thumb hovered over the play button, frozen in hesitation. Her chest rose and fell in shallow waves. Her thumb moved back slightly, like she might retreat. Like maybe she could ignore it.
But she couldn't.
She tapped it.
