Untitled Episode
317 Words
Five Missed Calls
At 2:17 a.m., Ada’s phone buzzed for the fifth time.
She lay on her side, staring at the cracked corner of her ceiling, watching shadows move as cars passed outside. The phone vibrated again on the bedside table, lighting up the room in soft blue.
Tunde Calling.
She let it ring.
It wasn’t cruelty. It was exhaustion.
They had been going in circles for months—late-night arguments, long silences, apologies that felt thinner each time. Loving him had started to feel like holding water in her hands. No matter how careful she was, it always slipped through.
Earlier that night, Ada had typed a message she’d rewritten a dozen times.
I don’t know how to keep loving you without losing myself.
Her thumb hovered over “send.”
Then she deleted it.
She told herself she would answer the next call. She always did.
But the fifth call ended, and the screen went dark.
Silence filled the room.
Ada turned onto her back, heart uneasy, but sleep eventually claimed her.
Morning came with sunlight and regret.
Her phone lay where it had been all night. Five missed calls. No messages. That was strange. Tunde always left a voice note—angry, joking, or apologetic. Always something.
At 9:43 a.m., her phone rang again. This time it wasn’t his name.
“Hello?” Ada said, sitting up.
“Is this Ada Bello?” a man asked gently.
“Yes… who is this?”
There was a pause. The kind that prepares you for bad news.
“I’m calling from Murtala Muhammed Airport. I’m very sorry. Tunde was listed as your emergency contact.”
Her mouth went dry.
“He boarded an early flight this morning,” the man continued. “He left a letter. He… he didn’t survive.”
The room tilted.
Ada didn’t remember screaming, but her throat burned as if she had.
- Writer
