The Missing Voice Mail
1376 Words
The media storm lasted three days.
Three long, exhausting days.
Every sport's network discussed Emma and Noah.
Every podcast offered opinions.
Every social media platform turned their lives into entertainment.
But Noah's press conference had changed something.
Public opinion was shifting.
People were asking questions.
Not about Emma.
About the people targeting her.
About the suspicious timing of the leaks.
About the growing evidence that someone had manipulated events behind the scenes.
For the first time, the spotlight was beginning to move in the right direction.
Toward the truth.
And the truth was finally getting close.
Late Thursday evening, Emma sat inside the team's private conference room.
Documents covered the table.
Coffee cups littered every available surface.
Several members of Noah's legal team worked nearby.
Rebecca sat with them.
Exhausted.
Determined.
Guilty.
The woman clearly hated her role in what had happened.
Noah stood beside a whiteboard covered in dates and timelines.
Emma couldn't stop staring at him.
Not because he was handsome.
Though he absolutely was.
Not because she still loved him.
Though that was becoming increasingly difficult to deny.
But because she kept imagining the man he'd been five years ago.
The man who had planned a proposal.
The man who had carried her photograph across five years of heartbreak.
The man who had stood before the entire hockey world and defended her without hesitation.
How had she ever believed he had stopped loving her?
The answer came immediately.
Because someone had made sure she believed it.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
One of Noah's investigators entered.
The older man looked excited.
And nervous.
Both emotions at once.
Emma immediately sat straighter.
"What is it?"
The investigator placed a file on the table.
Then another.
Then a tablet.
"We found something."
Every person in the room froze.
Noah moved first.
"What?"
The investigator inhaled slowly.
"As part of the digital recovery process, we managed to access archived carrier records."
Emma's pulse quickened.
Noah's too.
She could see it.
The investigator continued.
"There was a voicemail."
Silence.
Total silence.
Emma stopped breathing.
Noah looked stunned.
"A voicemail?"
The man nodded.
"Five years ago."
Emma's heart began pounding.
Hard.
Fast.
Painfully.
A thousand possibilities rushed through her mind.
"What kind of voicemail?"
The investigator looked directly at her.
"The kind you were supposed to hear."
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too warm.
Too intense.
The investigator tapped the tablet.
A file appeared.
Dated five years earlier.
Three days before the breakup.
Emma's stomach dropped.
Noah looked pale.
Actually pale.
As if he already knew what was coming.
As if some part of him had never stopped reliving that week.
The investigator swallowed.
"It was deleted from the server shortly after it was left."
Emma's voice barely worked.
"Can it still be played?"
The man nodded.
"Yes."
Her heart nearly stopped.
Across the room, Noah stared at the tablet.
His expression was unreadable.
But Emma knew him.
Knew the tension in his shoulders.
Knew the emotions hidden behind his eyes.
He was terrified.
So was she.
The investigator looked between them.
"Do you want to hear it?"
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
Emma didn't know.
Because whatever was inside that recording had been lost for five years.
And sometimes lost things stay lost for a reason.
Then Noah's hand found hers beneath the table.
Instinctively.
Naturally.
The contact steadied her.
Emma squeezed back.
Slowly.
She nodded.
"Play it."
The recording crackled.
Static filled the room.
For one horrible second, Emma thought it wouldn't work.
Then a voice emerged.
A familiar voice.
A voice she'd spent years missing.
Noah.
Five years younger.
Five years more hopeful.
Five years away.
The sound alone nearly shattered her.
Then he spoke.
"Hey, Em."
Emma closed her eyes.
The nickname hit like a physical blow.
Because nobody called her that anymore.
Nobody except Noah.
The recording continued.
"You're probably ignoring my calls."
A soft laugh.
Nervous.
Affectionate.
Painfully familiar.
"Which is fair."
More silence.
Then:
"I know things have been crazy lately."
Emma's chest tightened.
She remembered.
The endorsement deals.
The travel.
The pressure.
Everything had become overwhelming.
Noah's voice softened.
"I hate fighting with you."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Nobody moved.
Nobody interrupted.
The room listened.
The room mourned.
The room witnessed.
Five years too late.
Then Noah's younger voice continued.
And everything changed.
"I bought the ring today."
Emma broke.
Completely.
Across the table, Noah looked away.
As though hearing his younger self was unbearable.
The voicemail played on.
"I know you're going to say I'm rushing things."
A nervous laugh.
"But honestly? I've known for years."
Emma covered her mouth.
Trying not to cry.
Failing.
Miserably.
"You're it for me."
The room disappeared.
Everything disappeared.
Only Noah's voice remained.
Only the truth.
Only the love that had survived five years.
"I don't care where hockey takes me."
Emma's breath caught.
"I don't care how busy things get."
More silence.
Then:
"As long as you're there."
Tears streamed freely now.
Nobody looked away.
Nobody pretended not to see.
Because there was no point.
Not anymore.
The recording crackled again.
And then came the words that destroyed her completely.
"I'm going to ask you to marry me, Emma."
The room stopped breathing.
Emma certainly did.
Five years.
Five years she'd spent believing she wasn't enough.
Five years she'd spent believing hockey mattered more.
Five years she'd spent believing Noah chose something else.
And here was the truth.
Simple.
Beautiful.
Heartbreaking.
He had chosen her.
He'd been choosing her all along.
The voicemail wasn't finished.
Noah's voice returned.
Quieter now.
More vulnerable.
More honest.
"And if you're scared..."
Emma's heart cracked.
Because she had been scared.
Terrified.
Young.
Uncertain.
In love.
"Then we'll figure it out together."
A tear landed on the table.
Then another.
"We always do."
Across from her, Noah looked broken.
Not because he regretted the words.
Because he remembered believing them.
Remembered a future that never happened.
Remembered the hope he'd carried.
The voicemail neared its end.
The final seconds approaching.
The final truth.
The final wound.
"I love you."
Emma squeezed her eyes shut.
Noah's hand tightened around hers.
Neither let go.
The recording continued.
"I loved you yesterday."
Another tear.
"I'll love you tomorrow."
Emma's chest physically hurt.
The kind of pain that comes from too much emotion.
Too much grief.
Too much love.
Then came the final sentence.
The sentence meant for her.
The sentence she'd never heard.
Until now.
"No matter what happens, don't ever believe I stopped loving you."
The recording ended.
Silence.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Several people quietly left the room.
Giving them privacy.
Giving them space.
Giving them dignity.
Eventually, only Emma and Noah remained.
Still sitting across from each other.
Still holding hands.
Still shattered.
The truth had finally arrived.
Five years late.
But it had arrived.
Emma stared at him.
Really stared.
And suddenly she saw everything.
The missed opportunities.
The lost years.
The grief.
The loneliness.
The love.
So much love.
More than she'd ever realized.
More than she'd allowed herself to believe.
Noah looked exhausted.
Emotionally stripped bare.
Vulnerable in a way she'd never seen.
"I left that voicemail six days before everything fell apart."
His voice cracked.
Emma nodded.
Unable to speak.
Unable to breathe properly.
Noah swallowed hard.
"I called thirty-one times after that."
Her heart broke all over again.
Because she'd called too.
She'd waited too.
She'd hoped too.
They had both been fighting for something that had already been stolen.
The unfairness felt unbearable.
Slowly, Emma stood.
Noah stood too.
Neither seemed capable of staying seated.
The distance between them disappeared.
One step.
Then another.
Then none.
They stood face to face.
Close enough to feel each other's breath.
Close enough to hear each other's heartbeat.
The air felt charged.
Heavy.
Fragile.
Dangerous.
Emma looked into his eyes.
Blue.
Familiar.
Home.
The realization hit her with terrifying clarity.
She wasn't resisting because she didn't love him.
She was resisting because she did.
Because loving Noah had always been easy.
Trusting happiness again was the hard part.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Noah brushed it away instinctively.
The touch lingered.
Neither moved.
Neither looked away.
And for the first time in five years—
Neither wanted to.
- Writer
