Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(01.)
︻╦╤─ ҉ -¨ * ‧₊˚*♡ * *" ♡. ♡
.
I glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes until Steve would finally arrive. It had been over a year and five months since we started dating, but lately, it felt like he was just a voice on the other end of the phone, always promising to show up and then finding some excuse not to.
"Yes, I promise," Steve's voice came through, trying to sound convincing.
I bit my lip, the familiar disappointment settling in. "Steve, I'm serious. I really miss you. I'm tired of planning dates and having you bail on me... It's like you're avoiding me," I confessed, the words heavy with the weight of my loneliness.
"Hey, don't say that. You know I wouldn't avoid you," he replied, but his assurance did little to lift my spirits.
I sighed, maybe I was overreacting. "You're right, that was dumb," I conceded, trying to brush off my concerns. "I'll see you in a few, alright? I love you"
"Yeah," he responded, the warmth had left his voice. The line went dead with a ring, and I muttered to myself, "Yeah?, he can be such an asshole."
Shaking off the frustration, I turned my attention to the stack of movies I had laid out for our movie night. Horror was always my go-to, and tonight's lineup included 'Little Shop of Horrors,' 'Psycho,' 'Nightmare on Elm Street,' and a few others. 'The Exorcist' played quietly in the background, setting the mood.
I was just about to start popping some popcorn on the stove when the phone rang again. I rushed to answer it, hoping it was Steve, ready to apologize and tell me he was on his way.
I answered the phone, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. "Hello?" The line crackled, and a rough, unfamiliar voice responded. "Hello?" I repeated, a frown forming.
This didn't sound like Steve. Probably just a wrong number. "Yes?" I asked, cautious. "Who is this?" the man on the other end demanded. I countered, "Who are you trying to reach?"
"What number is this?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his tone. "What number are you trying to reach, sir?" I shot back, my patience wearing thin.
"I don't know," he admitted. I sighed, stirring the popcorn on the stove. "I think you have the wrong number," I informed him, hoping to end the conversation.
