That night, after she went to bed, I did something I'd never done before. I went snooping around.
It wasn't difficult to access the landline call log. That's where it appeared. A number I didn't recognize.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
I looked at it for a long time before composing it.
The ringing echoed in the silence. I was about to hang up. My thumb hovered over the button. I thought it was crazy.
And then, a breath.
A landline phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
Gentle. Masculine. Familiar.
“Susie,” the voice whispers. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to call again tonight.”
I couldn't breathe anymore.
“Who is it?” I asked, even though deep down I already knew.
A thick, deliberate silence followed.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
One click.
The call was disconnected.
I sat there, clutching the phone, as waves of confusion and horror washed over me.
Charles was dead. I knew he was dead. I had mourned him. I had buried him, or at least I thought I had.
