The ringing was an assault. Each shrill tone was a needle piercing the tranquil bubble of our life, injecting a pure, undiluted dread. Arthur’s hand hovered, a tremor running through his fingers. His eyes, wide and clouded with fifty years of grief and confusion, were locked on mine, pleading for an answer I couldn't give."Don't," I repeated, the word a desperate incantation. "It's a phantom, Arthur. A trick. Let it go to voicemail."The rational part of him, the renowned surgeon who had navigated a thousand crises with a steady hand, warred with the ghost-ridden husband, the man who had buried a wife and a child in a single, devastating day. I saw the exact moment the ghost won. A desperate, wild hope, one I hadn't seen since he was a young man, flared in his gaze. He had to know.His hand closed around the receiver. He lifted it, his movements slow, deliberate, as if handling a live explosive."Hello?" His voice was rough, stripped bare.I couldn't hear the voice on the other end,
Last Updated : 2025-10-30 Read more