The phone call
1016 Words
“You’re under far too much stress, Lia,” the doctor said gently, scribbling something into his notepad as he sat across from her in the quiet of the sunlit room. “Your vitals are stabilizing now, but if you continue your lack of sleep, emotional upheaval, irregular eating you’ll crash again. And it maybe worse.”
Lia sat up straighter on the chaise by the window, one trembling hand pressed against her temple. Her head still throbbed faintly from yesterday, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest.
“I’m fine,” she murmured. “I’ve just been busy.”
The doctor closed the folder on his lap. “Grief doesn’t wait for your calendar to clear. And unresolved trauma doesn’t just vanish.”
She said nothing.
“Would you like me to speak with your husband?”
“No.” The word came out too quickly, too sharp.
He raised a brow.
“I’ll handle it,” she added, softer this time.
He nodded slowly, though his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he stood. “I’m leaving you some sleep aids. Use them. And eat something. Real food, Lia.”
When he left, the silence settled again.
Lia’s fingers drifted to the windowsill. Outside, the garden Mikhail’s mother had planted bloomed in full, untouched by the storm that had passed the night before. The flowers were vibrant, defiant in their color.
She was not.
She barely made it through breakfast. The food tasted like cardboard. Mikhail hadn’t come down. She didn’t expect him to. Not after yesterday. He must be feeling that he's done enough for her.
He could have just let her die there. Maybe he wasn't done taunting her yet.
She rubbed the inside of her wrist absently, feeling the raw tenderness beneath her silk sleeves.
Later that afternoon, her phone buzzed.
Theo.
His name lit up her screen like a warning. Or maybe a lifeline.
As a big shareholder of Aragon Global, she was bound to hold his number. She had all their numbers, even that old prick's.
She answered. “Theo.”
“I heard what happened. Are you alright?”
“How did he?” she wondered to herself. Maybe Mikhail decided to publish her fragile experience. He loves disgracing her.
“I’m breathing.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know what I am right now.”
There was a pause. “Can you meet me?”
This might not be so bad.
“Where?”
“My place. It’s quiet here.”
“I”
“I’ll send a driver. No one will see you.”
She didn’t argue.
---
Theo’s apartment was nothing like the cold marble of the estate. It was filled with warm woods, soft corners, music humming faintly from hidden speakers.
He stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a cup of tea already waiting on the counter for her.
“Still like chamomile?” he asked.
She took the cup and held it with both hands. “I haven’t tasted anything in days.”
He watched her carefully. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I haven’t noticed.”
“You wouldn’t.”
They sat in silence for a while. She didn’t know why she came, only that she needed to be away from that house. Away from Mikhail’s silence. Away from her father’s stares. Away from her mother’s grave and the lighter that still haunted her memory.
Theo leaned forward. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Lia.”
She looked up, and her voice cracked. “I’m not strong enough for this.”
His eyes softened. “You shouldn’t have to be.”
The air between them felt heavy.
“Do you remember when we used to play in the fields behind the old villa?” she asked suddenly. “When our biggest fear was being caught stealing mangoes?”
He smiled faintly. “And your mother would chase us with a slipper.”
Her laugh was short, almost bitter. “She always let you go, though.”
“I was charming.”
“You still are.”
He looked away. “Not enough, apparently.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Lia.”
Theo's mum was a good friend of Lia's mother. Although Theo's family was lower middle class, their friendship had a strong bond.
Lia stood, walking to the window. The sun had dipped lower now, casting the city in gold and grey.
“I didn’t choose this,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I never asked to marry him. I didn’t even know we were being tied together like some cursed ritual.”
“I know.”
“And he hates me. Every day, he looks at me like I’m poison. He won’t touch me. Won’t talk to me. But he brings other women home just to humiliate me.”
Theo’s voice was quiet. “You deserve more than that.”
She faced him. “What if this is all I deserve?”
“Don’t say that.”
“You think I don’t know what people say behind my back? The whispers? The rumors?”
He stepped toward her. “You are not your past.”
“But he thinks I am.”
“I’m not him.”
“I know.”
A long pause passed between them. Theo’s jaw tensed.
“I’m going to say something now, and I don’t care if it’s selfish.”
She looked at him, something vulnerable sparking in her gaze.
“Leave him, Lia.”
She didn’t move.
“You’re dying a little more every day in that house. And I can’t watch it happen anymore. You need out. Even if it’s not with me. Even
if it’s just you. Just go.”
Her fingers tightened around the windowsill.
“He’ll never let me go,” she said quietly. “Not really.”
“Then make him.”
- Writer
