The Call

That same day

The faint hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the kitchen.

The morning sunlight slanted through the window, reflecting softly on the white marble counter. I stood barefoot, my hair tied loosely into a messy bun, trying to peel an orange with trembling fingers.

Morgan had gone to work early. She’d made sure I had everything I needed before leaving, reminding me to eat and rest. I had promised her I would.

But the truth was, I hadn’t eaten properly in days. The thought of food made my stomach twist. The only thing I could manage was orange juice — sour, sweet, sharp enough to keep me awake.

I pressed the oranges against the juicer, watching the bright liquid pour into the glass. My hands were cold, maybe from the chill, maybe from the ache that had settled deep inside me since that night.

The phone on the counter buzzed suddenly.

I frowned, wiping my hands on a towel before reaching for it.

The screen flashed a name I hadn’t expected to see.

Lilian.

For a seco