30 Missed Calls Novels & Stories

I picked it up. Double tap on the screen and… Damn. 14 missed calls from the guard department. 5 missed calls from my dad. Immediately, it clicked. There must be problems. I had to get Riven.

I looked at them surprised and bypass them. Immediately, I reached the lobby. I opened my purse and brought out my car key and got into my car and angrily hit my steering, sitting down. The pain in between my legs had not gone entirely but had subsided. I picked up my phone from the side of the passenger seat where I abandoned it. I unlocked the screen, to see 33 missed calls. From my love once. Five missed cars from Evelyn, three from Obama, seven from Alex, and the rest from Matilda. What I'm I going to tell them? I check the time and I stared at my phone shocked.

He wiped his tears away harshly and walked away, not wanting to say goodbye to their relationship, which seemed to be falling apart before his eyes. Alistair let out a heavy sigh and sat on the bed, opening his mobile to find a flood of notifications. There were almost 300 missed calls from a specific person, a few from his dad and mom, and four missed calls from Aaron and two from Ederic. The sheer number of missed calls from that specific person surprised Alistair. He didn't expect to be this special to receive 300 missed calls from them over the course of a week. Alistair decided to skip that notification, tossing his mobile somewhere in the room before flopping down on the bed.

I went back into the room and picked up my phone. Forty seven missed calls. Nineteen of them from numbers I didn’t recognise. The rest from people I had considered friends over the last three years. Women I had brunched with. Couples Jason and I had socialised with. His colleagues’ wives who had always been perfectly pleasant to my face. I put the phone face down on the nightstand without listening to a single voicemail.

Five missed calls! Jessica quickly checked the call log to see who the missed calls had been from. It was her mother. She panicked. Was something wrong? Her mother had never called her more than twice before. Whenever she called, if Jessica didn't pick the first and second time, she would not call again and wait until Jessica saw the call and returned it, or she simply texted Jessica. But this time, it was five freaking missed calls. Jessica immediately called her mother back. The phone rang the first time, there was no answer; the second time, her mother still didn't pick.

The phone just wasn't ringing out loud because it was in silence. I crossed over to pick it up but the call cut before I could get to it. My heart dropped when I saw the number of missed calls. 20 missed calls from both Brody and Carson. Did something happen? I fished out my phone too and I saw 6 missed calls from them. The dread about what could have possibly happened filled me as I failed Carson's number back on my phone. Another call came in from Brody on Ashley's phone before it went through. I picked it up.

Then his whole expression changed. “What?” “Fifty-three missed calls.” The number hit like a blow. Not two. Not five. Not one frantic call from a single worried person. Fifty-three. That meant they had been trying to reach him for a while. That meant whatever was happening in Vandwood had not started seconds ago. That meant chaos. Real chaos.

“Heyyy, what’s up Ky? You’re up pretty e—” “And what the h*ll are you so chirpy about? I’ve called like ten times, and you’re only just picking it up now?” he exclaimed, frustration and worry fused in his tone. Huh? I quickly checked my notifications to see what he was rambling about and, to my horror, I had missed a lot. Sixteen missed calls and thirty-six messages he had spammed my phone with since 5:31 am. Damn phone, of course it was on silent!

Please let that have been a dream. Slowly — cautiously — she reached for her phone. Her fingers hovered above the screen. If the call log wasn’t there, she would never drink again. She unlocked it. Recent Calls. Unknown Number. 12 minutes. Her heart started beating louder. She tapped it, half expecting more. There wasn’t. No follow-up call. No messages. No missed attempts. Nothing. The absence sat heavier than anything else could have. If he was weird, wouldn’t he have texted? If he was curious, wouldn’t he have tried again?

The whiskey had worn off around 4 AM, which meant he'd spent the last four hours sober and aware of exactly what he'd done. The city sprawled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows like an accusation. All those people living lives that didn't revolve around making mistakes and then paying for them. He finally turned his phone back on. Forty-three missed calls. Thirty-one from Victoria. Twelve from Richard Thompson (his attorney, probably panicking about something). Nothing from Selena. He hadn't actually expected anything from Selena, but the absence of her name still managed to hurt. Victoria's voicemail was predictable: