The Wrong Number

Chapter 5: The Stranger Didn't Mock Me

AVA'S POV

The morning sun was aggressively cheerful, streaming through the kitchen windows and highlighting every speck of dust in the air.

I sat at the small table, staring blankly at a bowl of cereal I had no intention of eating.

My eyes burned, red-rimmed and swollen from a night of fitful sleep and tears I couldn't stop crying.

Then, the front door burst open with a bang, followed by the sound of someone humming a pop song off-key.

"I'm home!" Laura's voice rang out, bright and energetic.

She kicked the door shut behind her, dropping her bag on the floor with a thud.

She was wearing the same clothes she'd left in, her hair a mess, but she was glowing with a happiness that made my stomach turn.

"Oh my god, Ava, I am so sorry I didn't come back," she started, her words tumbling out in a rush.

"Sam's place was just... wow.

We had the most amazing time, I swear, we didn't even sleep until like four AM, we just talked and—"

She stopped dead in her tracks.

The smile vanished from her face as she finally looked at me.

I knew what she saw.

I was slumped in the chair, pale and trembling, looking like I hadn't slept at all.

The vibrant, confident woman who had left in the red dress was gone, replaced by someone broken and hollow.

"Ava?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper, all traces of her own excitement evaporating.

She rushed to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite me.

"Oh my god.

Ava, what happened?

What's wrong?"

I looked up, and the sight of her concern, the sheer normalcy of my best friend's return, broke the last dam holding me together.

"He ruined it, Laura," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"He ruined everything."

"What?"

Her face hardened, her protective instincts kicking up instantly.

"What did he do?

Did he hurt you?"

"No, not... not like that," I sobbed, the words tumbling out now that the floodgates were open.

"But he... Laura, at the restaurant, there was this waitress.

She was flirting with him.

Like, openly flirting with him.

And he... he loved it.

He laughed at her jokes, he leaned in, he told her he might take her up on her offer for 'dessert'."

Laura's jaw dropped.

"He didn't."

"He did," I cried, my hands shaking so badly I had to clasp them together to stop the trembling.

"And when I called him out on it, when I told him it was inappropriate, he told me I was being sensitive.

He told me I was being a jealous psycho.

He made me feel like I was the crazy one for expecting my boyfriend to respect me on our anniversary."

"Oh, Ava," she breathed, reaching across the table to grab my hands.

"I'm so sorry.

That asshole."

"It got worse," I whispered, the words tasting like bile.

"When we got home... I tried.

I really tried, Laura.

I put on that lingerie you bought me.

I looked in the mirror and I felt... I felt powerful.

I felt sexy.

And I thought, maybe tonight will be different.

Maybe tonight he'll see me."

"Ava, no."

Laura squeezed my hands tighter, her face pale with anger.

"I told him I wanted to try something different," I continued, the memory making me feel sick.

"I told him I wanted to please him.

And he... he pulled away from me.

He called it 'demonic'.

He told me I didn't need to behave like a 'slut' because I was a 'good girl'."

"That is so f****d up," Laura spat, her eyes blazing with rage.

"He said that to you?"

"Yes," I sobbed.

"And then... then he just... he just used me.

No romance, no foreplay, no care.

It lasted maybe two minutes, Laura.

Two minutes.

And then he rolled over and went to sleep.

He didn't even ask if I was okay.

He didn't care that I didn't... that I didn't..."

I broke down completely, sobbing into my hands.

"He didn't make me c*m.

He hasn't made me c*m in years, Laura.

I can't even remember the last time he cared about my pleasure.

We've been having missionary s*x for three years, every single time, and whenever I try to suggest anything else, he shuts me down.

He tells me I'm too good for it.

But I'm not too good for it, Laura.

I want it.

I want to explore.

I want to feel wanted, not just used."

Laura pulled me into a fierce hug, holding me as I cried.

"Oh, sweetie.

I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry you went through that.

You don't deserve that.

No one deserves that."

"I love him, Laura," I cried into her shoulder.

"I love him so much, but I'm so unhappy.

I'm so unsatisfied.

And I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to know what to do right now," Laura said firmly, pulling back to look me in the eyes.

"But I need you to know something.

You are not crazy.

You are not demanding.

You are not wrong for wanting to be satisfied.

For wanting to be treated like a human being with needs and desires.

That is not too much to ask."

"But he won't change," I whispered.

"He never changes."

"Then maybe," Laura said carefully, her voice gentle but firm, "you need to think about whether this is the life you want.

Whether this is the kind of love you deserve."

"I just... I can't.

Not today."

Laura nodded, her expression softening.

She reached out and squeezed my hand again.

"Okay.

We don't have to figure it all out right now.

But you need to know you're not alone.

I'm here.

I'm not going anywhere."

I let out a shaky breath, a small, fragile smile touching my lips.

"Thank you.

I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," Laura said firmly.

She stood up, her demeanor shifting from supportive friend to action-oriented protector.

"Okay, first things first.

We are not sitting in this misery.

I'm making us coffee.

Real coffee.

And then we are going to do something to get your mind off this.

Even if it's just watching bad reality TV and eating our weight in ice cream."

I watched as she moved around the kitchen, her presence filling the room with a sense of normalcy and safety.

The contrast between Laura's care and Mark's neglect was so stark it made my chest ache.

"Laura?"

My voice was small.

"Yeah?"

She paused, turning to look at me.

"I... I did something stupid last night," I admitted, my gaze dropping to the table.

"After... after everything happened, I was so upset.

I tried to text you.

To tell you everything.

But I... I typed the wrong number."

Laura's eyes widened.

"What?"

"I sent my entire rant.

Everything about the dinner, about Mark, about the sex... to a complete stranger."

Laura stared at me for a moment, then let out a low whistle.

"Oh, wow.

Okay.

That's... that's a lot."

"I know," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

"I felt so alone and I just... I panicked.

I sent it before I realized.

When he replied asking who this was, I told him it was a wrong number and begged him to delete it."

"And?"

Laura asked, leaning forward, her curiosity piqued despite the gravity of the situation.

"And... he didn't mock me," I said, my voice filled with confusion.

"He didn't make fun of me.

He... he listened.

He told me I wasn't crazy.

He said Mark was the fool, not me.

He was... kind."

Laura blinked, clearly surprised.

"Wait, seriously?

Some random stranger just... listened to you vent about your s****l trauma and was nice about it?"

"Yes," I said, tears welling up again, but this time they were tears of confusion and a strange, lingering sense of gratitude.

"He said love shouldn't require me to shrink myself.

He said I deserve more than mechanics.

He... he cared, Laura.

More than my own boyfriend did."

Laura was silent for a long moment.

She walked over to me and pulled me into another tight hug.

"Okay, that is incredibly weird.

But also... maybe it's exactly what you needed to hear.

Even if it came from a stranger."

"I know," I whispered.

"It just makes me feel even more messed up.

That the only person who validated my feelings last night was a stranger on the other end of a text message."

Laura pulled back, holding my shoulders firmly.

Her eyes were narrowed, not in anger, but in confusion.

"Wait.

Hold on.

Back up.

You said you tried to text me?

But Ava... my number is saved in your phone.

As 'Laura - Bestie' with a little heart emoji.

You literally just have to tap my name.

How do you accidentally text a stranger when my contact is right there?"

I froze.

The air left the room.

The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and the picture they formed was even more horrifying than I had realized.

My hands began to shake violently again.

"I... I didn't have my phone," I stumbled out, my voice trembling.

"Laura, I left it at the restaurant.

When I stormed out after... after Mark flirted with that waitress, I was so angry and upset.

I must have left it on the table."

Laura's jaw dropped.

"You left your phone at the restaurant?

Ava, no."

"I realized this morning it was gone," I continued, my voice hollow, the horror of the last twenty-four hours crashing down on me all at once.

"I panicked.

I told Mark, and he... he just shrugged.

He said, 'If you left it there, you're probably not getting it back.

People steal stuff like that.'

He said it wasn't a big deal and I should just get a cheap one."

"That asshole," Laura spat, her face contorting with rage.

"He couldn't even drive you back to check?

He couldn't even call the restaurant to see if they turned it in?"

"He didn't care," I sobbed.

"He said it wasn't a big deal.

So I... I had to use my own money.

The money I saved for my textbooks this semester.

I went to the electronics store and bought a cheap, basic phone just so I could function.

And when I was setting it up... I tried to save your number from memory.

I must have typed one digit wrong.

I typed a stranger's number instead of yours."

The silence in the kitchen was absolute.

Laura stared at me, her anger slowly shifting from Mark to a fierce, protective fury.

Then, unexpectedly, she let out a short, sharp laugh.

It wasn't a laugh of amusement, but of disbelief at the sheer audacity of Mark's negligence.

"Damn, girl," Laura said, shaking her head, though her eyes were still filled with tears.

"You had it bad.

You were so desperate to talk to someone, so broken up about what happened, that you couldn't even type a phone number correctly."

"I know," I replied, a bitter smile touching my lips.

"It's pathetic."

"No," Laura said firmly, pulling me into another hug.

"It's proof of how much you needed help.

And honestly?

The fact that you tried to reach out, even by accident, shows how strong you are.

You were fighting for yourself, even when you didn't realize it."

Laura pulled back and held my hand.

"Okay.

New plan.

First, we are not letting Mark off the hook for this.

Not for the restaurant, not for the phone, and definitely not for how he treated you.

But right now, we need to deal with the immediate problem.

This stranger... did they keep the messages?"

"I don't know, Laura," I said, a nervous laugh escaping me.

"And I don't want to deal with Mark right now."