The night was quiet, the kind of quiet that made everything else feel sharper every sound, every thought, every heartbeat, even the soft hum of the fan. My room was dimly lit, just enough to see the shadows on the walls, and I kept my phone close, face up, like I was waiting for something I didn’t want to admit. I knew he would call. Somehow, I just knew, the way you know when the air changes before rain. When the call came, my chest jumped. I answered quickly, pretending to be calm, keeping my voice even, but inside… I wasn’t. I could hear his voice, calm as ever, greeting me like it was the most normal thing in the world, like we did this every night. “Miss P,” he said, and I smiled, despite myself, despite the way my pulse kicked. “Hey,” I replied, my voice softer than I intended, a little lower than usual. There was a pause, a quiet laugh from him, like he noticed something in my tone but didn’t point it out, didn’t make it a thing. “You sound tired,” h
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