That night, Adam could not sleep.
The ceiling above him felt like it was closing in, pressing down with the weight of what he had done and what he was about to do. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Emily’s face, the worry in her eyes, the tremble in her voice, and the quiet longing that refused to fade.
He turned over again and stared at his phone on the nightstand. Her number was there, glowing faintly in the dark. His finger hovered over it for what felt like an eternity. He knew he should not call. He knew the line between right and wrong was already thin enough to break.
But he wanted to hear her voice.
He gave in.
The phone rang once, twice, and then she answered.
“Adam,” she whispered, her tone filled with exhaustion and something
