30 Missed Calls Novels & Stories

Thirty-five missed calls from her. “Thirty-five?” I muttered in disbelief. I stared at the screen, trying to remember when she could have possibly called that many times.Because as far as I remembered…I had only ignored two. I clearly remembered seeing her name flash across my phone earlier that morning. I had declined the call, annoyed and not ready to deal with her. Then she had called again.And I ignored that one too. That was it. At least… that’s what I thought. Confused, I checked the side of the phone. That was when I saw it, my phone had been on silent.

She slid her fingerprint over it and over 48 missed calls and 20 text messages stared back at her in the face. 10 missed were from her mom’s best friend, 15 were from an unknown number, five missed calls were from another unknown number who called on different days and the remaining missed calls were from a very familiar person. She didn’t bother trying to call any of the numbers back. she opened her message app scrolling through the messages with a blank face.

Small victories. Still, I couldn’t just rush down there like this. I quickly adjusted my nightgown, smoothing the fabric, and reached for my phone. The screen lit up, and that’s when I saw it— 23 missed calls. All from Roman. My eyes widened, my pulse quickening again. I hadn’t gotten that many calls from anyone before, not even from him. My heart began to race as possibilities ran through my mind. Had something happened to the company? To someone we knew? Or… Was it something worse?

"This is Jonathan's private number. I can't guarantee that he'll answer you, but I'm not going to give the money back." Angela eagerly made the call. No one answered the first or second time. Angela almost cried with frustration when she thought of the 900 thousand that she had just transferred over. Finally, the call was answered on her tenth try. On the other end, Jonathan had just had a shower. He had come out to see that he had nine missed calls. He would have ignored them, but the tenth call came at that exact moment. He said, "Hello?" "Jonathan, I want to make a deal with you—"

The knowledge sat beside the older pain and made everything heavier. Her phone buzzed and buzzed against her palm. She turned it face-down on the café table and watched the screen light up the wood anyway. By the time the morning had fully arrived the missed-call count from Ren sat at thirty-eight. Thirty-eight attempts to reach her. Thirty-eight reminders that someone was terrified she was gone for good. She did not answer.

Thеrе are fоur mіѕѕеd саllѕ frоm оnе number, аnd twо from аnоthеr. They саmе at vаrуіng times during thе night, bеfоrе аnd durіng thе time we were сlubbіng аrоund Times Square. Someone was trуіng tо get hоld оf her urgеntlу, and I knоw ѕhе wоuld have answered іf it wаѕ ѕоmеоnе she knеw.

Then, I switched on the phone and found out thirty-six missed calls and one message. I'm not in the mood to talk, so I simply ignored the thirty-six missed calls. But I read the only text message on my phone. The message says from Nathaniel. While reading the message, my eyes were saddened by the news. Tears began dropping from my eyes once again.

That angered her like hell. She looked at her phone to see 39 missed calls and 40 messages. All are from one single number. "I am sorry Shagun. But please forgive me for this mistake. Don't turn your back on me. I will do anything to gain your trust back." His last message flashes in her mobile phone as her tears rolled down her cheeks.

I'd only been here two days and already one girl was dead. I bit my lip to hold in the scream as the phone started buzzing in my hand. An almost constant stream of buzt, buzt, buzt as message after message, missed call after missed call came through. I kept an ear out for the sound of a key in the door. By the time the phone was silent in my hand, I had over 120 missed calls and 432 messages waiting for me. I didn't bother checking my voicemail box. I knew it was going to be full.

Ten missed calls from Ben—a string of messages that had pushed the notification bar to its limit. Nora sat up abruptly. The time was 7:00 PM. She had been asleep for over three hours. She opened the messages and read through them. The first ones arrived around 3:00 PM. Hey. Something came up. I’m sorry. I’ll explain. Then a gap of about forty minutes. Nora, I’m really sorry. I know you’re probably upset. Just picking up would be enough; you don’t have to say anything. Then the calls started, spread out across the afternoon, each one logged with a missed call notification between the messages.