"Call Anderson if you're unwell," Osita's voice came through the phone, calm, detached, almost bored, as if he were reading from a script.
Natalia stiffened immediately. She sat upright on the edge of her bed, the silk sheets pooling around her thighs, the phone pressed tightly to her ear. There was no urgency in his tone whatsoever.
No sharp intake of breath. No sudden concern. No promise to come running like he always did before.
And that, more than the words themselves, hit her hard, like a physical blow.
There had always been a rush before, an immediate response. Whenever Natalia complained of pain, discomfort, or even loneliness, Osita reacted swiftly and decisively.
Calls were cut short without hesitation. Meetings postponed indefinitely. Flights rescheduled at the last minute
