AFTER THE CALL
1231 Words
Chapter 14
[Phone ringing…]
Lola picked up on the second ring, no hesitation.
Lola (excitedly):
“Babeeee, 7PM mystery man showed up or nah?”
Aria flopped back onto her couch, a pillow in her arms, her cheeks still warm from smiling. She let out a soft laugh.
Aria:
“He did. We talked.”
Lola (gasping dramatically):
“Oooooh! Okay, we need full detail. Was he a stalker? A lost philosopher? A lonely poet? I need a profile.”
Aria (smiling):
“Definitely leaning toward lonely poet. His voice was deep, calm—like it knew exactly how to wrap around a bad day and make it softer.”
Lola (squealing):
“Ugh, stop. You’re already making me jealous. So tell me everything. How long did you talk?”
Aria:
“Almost an hour.”
Lola:
“What? Okay, this isn’t some random prank call then. What did you even talk about?”
Aria (closing her eyes):
“My job. How exhausting it is. And it didn’t feel boring, Lola. That’s the weird part. He just… listened. Like, really listened. No interruptions. No fake ‘uh-huhs.’ Just silence that felt… warm.”
Lola:
“That’s rare. Most guys start talking about their favorite pizza topping and forget your name mid-convo.”
Aria (laughing):
“Right? But not him. He made me feel like my words meant something. Like he was collecting them, not just hearing them.”
Lola (softly):
“You sound different, Ari. I can hear it in your voice.”
Aria:
“Different good?”
Lola:
“Different like… peaceful. Hopeful. Girl, you’re literally glowing through the phone.”
Aria (playful):
“Stop it. I am not.”
Lola:
“You are. So did you get his name at least?”
Aria:
“He said to call him ‘El.’ Just El. He didn’t give much else.”
Lola:
“El? Mysterious. Romantic. Sounds like a man with secrets.”
Aria:
“I know, right? It sounds like a name out of a fantasy novel. But he didn’t make it sound dramatic. Just… soft. Honest.”
Lola (teasing):
“Maybe he’s a time traveler. Or a knight trapped in the wrong century.”
Aria (laughing):
“Okay, calm down. It’s just a guy.”
Lola:
“Uh-uh. Don’t ‘just a guy’ me. Not when your heart is doing pirouettes right now.”
Aria (grinning):
“I hate that you know me so well.”
Lola:
“You love it. Now tell me: what else did he say?”
Aria (quietly):
“He told me that I’ve lifted him up just by existing. That hearing my voice gives him peace.”
Lola:
“Wait—he actually said that? Word for word?”
Aria:
“Yeah. And it didn’t feel like a line. It didn’t make me cringe. It just… landed in me. Like something I’d been waiting to hear without even knowing it.”
Lola (serious now):
“Wow. That’s big, Aria. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy say anything that genuine.”
Aria:
“Neither have I. And it wasn’t romantic, exactly. Not yet. It was just… comforting.”
Lola:
“Like emotional CPR.”
Aria:
“Exactly. And the way he spoke—it was like every word mattered. Like he believed words could change things.”
Lola:
“Now I’m really curious. What else did you guys talk about?”
Aria (thoughtfully):
“I asked why he called. He hesitated. Then he said something about how I reminded him there’s still light in the world. That even from far away, I’ve helped him. That he sees strength in me.”
Lola:
“He’s definitely a poet.”
Aria:
“Or a monk. Or a ghost.”
Lola (laughing):
“Girl, if he’s a ghost, tell him to haunt me next.”
Aria:
“Stop it.”
They both giggled, but Aria’s heart was still thudding in a quiet rhythm, like music she wasn’t ready to stop dancing to.
Lola:
“Okay, but did you get anything else out of him? What he does? Where he’s from?”
Aria:
“Nope. He avoided anything personal. But not in a sketchy way. Just like… he’s protecting something. Or maybe someone.”
Lola (suspicious):
“Like a child?”
Aria:
“Lola.”
Lola:
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Just trying to c***k the mystery.”
Aria (smiling):
“Maybe it’s better this way. Not knowing everything. It feels… safe.”
Lola:
“You trust him?”
Aria:
“I don’t know if I trust him yet. But I trust how I felt while talking to him. And that means something.”
Lola (gentle):
“Yeah. It does. Especially after… everything.”
They didn’t have to say his name. Alex’s shadow didn’t belong in this moment.
Aria:
“For once, it wasn’t about someone else needing me to be smaller, quieter, easier. It was about just being. And being enough.”
Lola:
“I wish I could bottle this feeling for you. Save it for the bad days.”
Aria:
“I think I’ve already started bottling it. His words… they linger.”
Lola:
“Like perfume from someone who hugged you too long.”
Aria:
“Exactly.”
They were quiet for a beat. Then Aria whispered:
Aria:
“He said we could talk again tomorrow. Same time.”
Lola (smiling):
“Then tomorrow better hurry the hell up.”
Aria (soft laugh):
“I feel silly.”
Lola:
“You’re allowed to feel silly. You’re allowed to feel giddy. And curious. And scared. And excited. That’s what being alive is. And girl, you’re finally breathing again.”
Aria (sincerely):
“I forgot how good that feels.”
Lola:
“You’ve earned this, Ari. Whatever this turns out to be.”
Aria (lightly):
“Well, if it turns out he’s some kind of fairy prince banished to the mortal world, I call dibs on the movie rights.”
Lola:
“Only if I get to play the best friend with killer fashion sense and dramatic one-liners.”
Aria:
“Deal.”
They laughed again, voices wrapping around each other like a cozy blanket.
Lola (yawning):
“Alright, dreamer. I’m gonna crash. But I expect a full update after tomorrow’s call.”
Aria:
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Lola:
“Love you.”
Aria:
“Love you more.”
They hung up, and the room shifted into quiet again—but this time, not empty.
Aria rose from the couch, still holding the pillow close. She walked slowly toward her kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and stood leaning against the counter.
It was just a call.
Just a voice.
Just an hour.
But it had changed something.
The part of her that had grown cold, numb, untouched by kindness—was waking up.
She walked to her bookshelf and found her old notebook, tucked between unread novels and forgotten planners. She opened to a clean page and wrote:
“El.”
She stared at the name, then kept writing. A list of how she felt. Not about him, but about herself.
Words like “soft,” “open,” “curious,” “strong.”
She closed the notebook and smiled.
Tomorrow would come. The voice would return. And for the first time in a long time…
She would be ready.
- Writer
