The CEO's Midnight voice

‎My phone started ringing at exactly 12:47 AM. ‎ ‎Once. ‎ ‎Twice. ‎ ‎Three times. ‎ ‎I pressed my face deeper into my pillow and groaned. The sound drilled straight into my skull like punishment. ‎ ‎Who even called people this late? ‎ ‎The screen kept glowing against the darkness of my room. ‎ ‎Unknown Number. ‎ ‎I ignored it again. ‎ ‎The phone stopped. ‎ ‎Finally. ‎ ‎I closed my eyes. ‎ ‎Then it rang again. ‎ ‎“Oh my God,” I muttered into my pillow. ‎ ‎From the mattress beside mine, Jay made an annoyed sound without opening his eyes. ‎ ‎“If that’s another debt collector,” my seventeen-year-old brother mumbled sleepily, “tell them we’re emotionally unavailable.” ‎ ‎I threw a pillow at him. ‎ ‎“Shut up.” ‎ ‎He laughed weakly before turning around dramatically, pulling the blanket over his head like a dying Victorian child. ‎ ‎The phone kept ringing. ‎ ‎Relentlessly. ‎ ‎Whoever it was had serious commitment issues. ‎ ‎I sat up with a tired sigh and grabbed my phone from the floor beside the mattress. My eyes burned from exhaustion. My entire body hurt from standing all day at the café. ‎ ‎I answered angrily before I could lose my patience completely. ‎ ‎“If you’re drunk, go ruin someone else’s night.” ‎ ‎Silence. ‎ ‎For a second, I thought the call had disconnected. ‎ ‎Then a low male voice spoke quietly. ‎ ‎“…I couldn’t sleep.” ‎ ‎I frowned immediately. ‎ ‎His voice didn’t sound drunk. ‎ ‎It sounded tired. ‎ ‎Not physically tired. ‎ ‎The other kind. ‎ ‎The kind you heard in people who stayed awake because sleeping meant being alone with their thoughts. ‎ ‎I rubbed my forehead slowly. ‎ ‎“Okay… and what exactly am I supposed to do about that?” ‎ ‎Another pause. ‎ ‎Then— ‎ ‎“You answered.” ‎ ‎Something about the way he said it made my irritation stumble for half a second. ‎ ‎I glanced at the screen again. ‎ ‎Unknown Number. ‎ ‎Definitely weird. ‎ ‎“You called four times,” I said. “Most serial killers are less persistent.” ‎ ‎A quiet breath left him. ‎ ‎Not exactly a laugh. ‎ ‎But close. ‎ ‎Jay suddenly sat up beside me with messy hair sticking everywhere. ‎ ‎“Who’s that?” he whispered loudly. ‎ ‎“I don’t know.” ‎ ‎“Is he rich?” ‎ ‎I stared at him. ‎ ‎“What?” ‎ ‎“That voice sounds expensive.” ‎ ‎I pushed his face away while he grinned shamelessly. ‎ ‎The man on the phone was silent for a moment before asking softly, ‎ ‎“Was that your boyfriend?” ‎ ‎I blinked. ‎ ‎Then looked at Jay, who was now scratching his stomach like a homeless raccoon. ‎ ‎I nearly laughed from disbelief. ‎ ‎“That?” I said flatly. “That’s my younger brother unfortunately.” ‎ ‎“Unfortunately?” Jay gasped dramatically. “After everything I do for you?” ‎ ‎“You ate my fries today.” ‎ ‎"You left them unattended. That’s legally my property.” ‎ ‎The stranger went quiet again. ‎ ‎Then I heard it. ‎ ‎A low laugh. ‎ ‎Small. ‎ ‎Rough around the edges. ‎ ‎Like he wasn’t used to doing it. ‎ ‎Jay pointed at the phone immediately. ‎ ‎“Oh my God. He likes me.” ‎ ‎I shoved him off the mattress. ‎ ‎He hit the floor with a loud yelp. ‎ ‎“Witch!” ‎ ‎“Go to sleep!” ‎ ‎“You’re jealous because I’m naturally charming!” ‎ ‎I muted the phone quickly because I was suddenly embarrassed for absolutely no reason. ‎ ‎Jay climbed back onto the mattress dramatically. ‎ ‎“You know,” he whispered, “this could be your enemies-to-lovers story.” ‎ ‎“You watch too many dramas.” ‎ ‎“And you don’t watch enough.” ‎ ‎I pushed his forehead until he finally flopped back down with exaggerated suffering. ‎ ‎“Tell your mystery husband I said goodnight.” ‎ ‎“He’s not my anything.” ‎ ‎“Mhm.” ‎ ‎I unmuted the call. ‎ ‎“Sorry about that.” ‎ ‎“It’s fine.” ‎ ‎His voice was calmer now somehow. ‎ ‎Warmer. ‎ ‎I leaned back against the wall beside my mattress. ‎ ‎Rain tapped softly against the tiny apartment window. ‎ ‎The old fan above us made clicking sounds every few seconds like it was fighting for its life. ‎ ‎Neither of us spoke for a moment. ‎ ‎It should’ve been awkward. ‎ ‎Strangely, it wasn’t. ‎ ‎“You always answer unknown numbers?” he asked eventually. ‎ ‎“No.” ‎ ‎“Then why answer mine?” ‎ ‎I looked down at my chipped nail polish. ‎ ‎“You were annoyingly persistent.” ‎ ‎That quiet almost-laugh came again. ‎ ‎Tiny. ‎ ‎Barely there. ‎ ‎But real. ‎ ‎I found myself asking before thinking, ‎ ‎“So… who are you?” ‎ ‎Silence. ‎ ‎Then— ‎ ‎“Someone who can’t sleep.” ‎ ‎“That sounds unhealthy.” ‎ ‎“It probably is.” ‎ ‎“You should try warm milk.” ‎ ‎“You sound serious.” ‎ ‎“I’m giving professional medical advice.” ‎ ‎“Hm.” ‎ ‎The sound brushed through my ear softly. ‎ ‎My stomach did something weird. ‎ ‎I ignored it immediately. ‎ ‎“You still didn’t answer my question,” I said. ‎ ‎“And you still answered my call.” ‎ ‎I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. ‎ ‎Definitely weird. ‎ ‎But not creepy weird. ‎ ‎More like… ‎ ‎Lonely weird. ‎ ‎Which somehow felt worse. ‎ ‎“What’s your name?” I asked again. ‎ ‎Another pause. ‎ ‎Then— ‎ ‎“What’s yours?” ‎ ‎“Absolutely not.” ‎ ‎“Why not?” ‎ ‎“Because strangers online are dangerous.” ‎ ‎“You answered a stranger at midnight.” ‎ ‎“…You make a fair point.” ‎ ‎Jay suddenly snorted awake beside me. ‎ ‎“Ask him if he’s ugly,” he mumbled half-asleep. ‎ ‎I slapped a hand over his mouth instantly. ‎ ‎“Oh my God.” ‎ ‎The man on the phone actually laughed this time. ‎ ‎A real laugh. ‎ ‎Low and brief. ‎ ‎But enough to send unexpected warmth through the cold room. ‎ ‎Jay looked personally proud of himself. ‎ ‎“You’re welcome,” he whispered. ‎ ‎I pushed his face away again. ‎ ‎“Go to sleep before I sell you.” ‎ ‎“You’d miss me.” ‎ ‎Unfortunately, he was right. ‎ ‎The silence on the phone stretched again. ‎ ‎Not uncomfortable. ‎ ‎Just… quiet. ‎ ‎I stared at the rain sliding down the window. ‎ ‎“You really can’t sleep?” I asked softly this time. ‎ ‎“No.” ‎ ‎“Insomnia?” ‎ ‎“Something like that.” ‎ ‎The answer felt unfinished. ‎ ‎Like there was more behind it. ‎ ‎But he didn’t elaborate. ‎ ‎And somehow, I understood he didn’t want to. ‎ ‎So I changed the subject instead. ‎ ‎“You work night shifts or something?” ‎ ‎“No.” ‎ ‎“You sound like you do.” ‎ ‎“What do I sound like?” ‎ ‎I thought about it. ‎ ‎“Tired,” I admitted. “Like you forgot how to rest properly.” ‎ ‎The line went very still. ‎ ‎I frowned slightly, checking if the call had dropped. ‎ ‎Then his voice came quieter than before. ‎ ‎“…That obvious?” ‎ ‎I didn’t know why that answer made my chest tighten a little. ‎ ‎Maybe because I understood exhaustion too well. ‎ ‎Working double shifts. ‎ ‎Stretching money until it screamed. ‎ ‎Pretending everything was fine because Jay needed someone steady. ‎ ‎Being tired became normal after a while. ‎ ‎“You should sleep,” I said eventually. ‎ ‎“So should you.” ‎ ‎“I wasn’t the one harassing strangers.” ‎ ‎“Yet you stayed.” ‎ ‎I opened my mouth. ‎ ‎Closed it again. ‎ ‎Annoyingly valid point. ‎ ‎Jay peeked one eye open dramatically. ‎ ‎“Tell him if he’s a billionaire, I support this relationship.” ‎ ‎“You are genuinely embarrassing.” ‎ ‎“I’m visionary.” ‎ ‎The stranger asked quietly, ‎ ‎“How old is your brother?” ‎ ‎“Seventeen.” ‎ ‎“Mm.” ‎ ‎“What does that mean?” ‎ ‎“He sounds exhausting.” ‎ ‎I looked at Jay, who was now trying to balance a biscuit on his forehead for no reason. ‎ ‎“…You have no idea.” ‎ ‎“I heard that,” Jay said proudly. ‎ ‎The stranger laughed again. ‎ ‎And this time I realized something strange. ‎ ‎He sounded lighter every time Jay interrupted. ‎ ‎Like the noise helped. ‎ ‎Like our tiny chaotic apartment was somehow pulling him away from whatever dark place he’d been sitting in before calling. ‎ ‎That realization settled oddly in my chest. ‎ ‎“What about you?” I asked before thinking too hard about it. “Do you live alone?” ‎ ‎A pause. ‎ ‎Then— ‎ ‎“Yes.” ‎ ‎The single word felt heavier than it should’ve. ‎ ‎I imagined him sitting somewhere dark and expensive for some reason. ‎ ‎A large empty apartment. ‎ ‎City lights. ‎ ‎Silence. ‎ ‎I didn’t know why my brain pictured that. ‎ ‎“You should get a dog,” Jay suggested loudly. ‎ ‎“Why?” ‎ ‎“So you stop emotionally terrorizing random women at midnight.” ‎ ‎I buried my face in my hand. ‎ ‎“I’m so sorry.” ‎ ‎“It’s okay.” ‎ ‎And somehow… ‎ ‎he sounded sincere. ‎ ‎Another silence settled between us. ‎ ‎Softer now. ‎ ‎Sleepier. ‎ ‎I checked the time and nearly choked. ‎ ‎One entire hour had passed. ‎ ‎How? ‎ ‎I barely talked to people I actually knew this long. ‎ ‎“Okay,” I said finally. “I really need sleep.” ‎ ‎“Hm.” ‎ ‎For some reason, he sounded disappointed. ‎ ‎The thought made warmth crawl into my cheeks. ‎ ‎Ridiculous. ‎ ‎He was literally a stranger. ‎ ‎“Goodnight, mystery insomniac.” ‎ ‎He didn’t answer immediately. ‎ ‎I thought maybe he’d already hung up. ‎ ‎Then quietly— ‎ ‎“Goodnight.” ‎ ‎His voice dipped lower on the word. ‎ ‎Gentler. ‎ ‎Like he almost didn’t want the conversation to end. ‎ ‎The line disconnected. ‎ ‎The room suddenly felt strangely quiet afterward. ‎ ‎Too quiet. ‎ ‎Jay immediately lifted his head from the pillow. ‎ ‎“So,” he said dramatically, “when’s the wedding?” ‎ ‎I threw the blanket at him. ‎ ‎“Go to sleep.” ‎ ‎“You smiled.” ‎ ‎“I did not.” ‎ ‎“You literally did.” ‎ ‎I ignored him and placed my phone beside the mattress before lying back down. ‎ ‎The ceiling fan creaked above us. ‎ ‎Rain continued tapping softly against the window. ‎ ‎My chest still felt oddly warm. ‎ ‎Which made absolutely no sense. ‎ ‎I’d just spent over an hour talking to a complete stranger whose name I didn’t even know. ‎ ‎That should’ve felt weird. ‎ ‎Instead… ‎ ‎it felt less lonely than most conversations I had lately. ‎ ‎I closed my eyes slowly. ‎ ‎My phone vibrated again. ‎ ‎I frowned and picked it up immediately. ‎ ‎Unknown Number. ‎ ‎A text message. ‎ ‎My stomach tightened as I opened it. ‎ ‎Goodnight, Isla. ‎ ‎ ‎My entire body went still. ‎ ‎Because I never told him my name