The call came the next morning.
And it unsettled me in a way I couldn't immediately explain.
I was still in bed when my phone started vibrating against the nightstand. I stared at it for a full five seconds before picking it up, already irritated. My head felt heavy. I hadn't slept properly. My chest still carried the weight of last night's decision — the job, the restraint, the almost-kiss in the kitchen.
I didn't need anything else.
But life doesn't wait until you're stable.
I answered.
"We need to talk."
His voice.
My stomach dropped instantly.
No greeting. No hesitation. Just that.
"We need to talk. Right now."
Before I could respond, the line disconnected.
A second later, a text came in.
Let's meet up. You know where we normally meet.
Short. Direct. Firm.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
That place.
That past.
That version of me.
