The phone rang. Once. Twice.
“Pick up,” I whispered, clutching it tighter. The sound of the dial tone filled the room, sharp and cold, and then, voicemail.
I tried again. And again. Each time the same hollow silence stretched longer, heavier, as if the night itself was swallowing the sound.
By the fifth call, his number stopped going through. No tone, no ring, just that mechanical voice that made my stomach twist ,
“The number you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable.”
Unavailable. Like he’d been erased.
I sat on my bed, knees pulled to my chest, the phone limp in my hand. The house was too quiet now. Even the ceiling fan sounded different, an uneven hum that made the shadows dance on the wall.
Something was wrong. I could feel it.
I tried to tell myself he’d just gone somew
