The Lie We Called Love
He’s about to speak—a dozen things, probably—when a sharp clicking sound echoes from the front door.
A click. A pause. And then the door opens.
“Oh, damn it,” Levi grits his teeth, almost smacking his forehead in frustration.
“I left my phone somewhere,” a woman’s voice calls out, so soft, like a bell that might ring in a fairytale, and it feels completely out of place in the tense air. It’s the exact same voice I heard before.