Weeks later, I was discharged from the hospital. As I get to my hotel room, I dropped my hospital bag on the floor and sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at my phone screen. The notifications were endless—missed calls, messages, voicemails.
Most of them were from Stella. Some were short.
"Where are you?"
"Pick up the damn phone."
"I swear to God, you better not be hiding from me."
Others… were longer. Desperate.
"I don’t even know what to say to you right now. I thought you were my best friend. You owe me a damn explanation. Call me back."
I swallowed hard. My hands shook as I scrolled further.
And then—Nicolas.
Not as many messages, but just as unsettling.
"We need to talk."
"Ignoring me won’t change anything."
"You should have known better than to think this was over."
M
