The shrill ringing of my phone startled me awake, snapping me out of a dreamless sleep.
Groggy, I fumbled blindly around the bed, feeling for my phone through the darkness.
When my fingers finally found it, I swiped to answer without even glancing at the screen, pressing the device to my ear.
“Hello?” I whispered, my voice raspy from sleep, eyes still closed.
Every bone in my body begged to sink back into the warmth of my blanket.
Who could be calling this late?
"Did I wake you up?" a familiar voice whispered through the line.
I froze.
That voice.
My eyes fluttered open, heart racing, as I sat upright on the bed.
I pulled the phone away to glance at the caller ID.
'Unknown Number'
Of course.
It's always a new number.
Always him.
"Chan?" I breathed, every trace of sleep vanishing instantly.
"Hey," he said softly, "Sorry for calling so early. I have a meeting at 7:30 AM, and I figured I might forget to call if I wait. And… I know you don’t read my texts anymore."
I clenched my jaw.
His voice had that same tone—a mix of apology and nostalgia that always messed with my head.
"What are you playing at, Chan? I thought you’d stopped calling," I hissed.
"And do you even know what time it is? You’re ruining my night.”
I glanced at my phone’s screen.
12:10 AM.
“Twelve-ten, Chan!?" I groaned, pulling the blanket back over me, shoving the phone to the side of my head just loud enough to hear him.
He let out a long sigh from the other side of the line.
"Sorry for disturbing you this early," he whispered, his voice carrying that same infuriating gentleness that made it hard for me to stay mad at him.
I said nothing, burying myself deeper under the blanket.
Silence stretched between us for a moment.
“Happy Birthday,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking through the stillness like a soft, unexpected wave.
His words stopped me cold.
What the!
“I know you hate your birthday,” he continued, his voice tender and slow, as if each word carried the weight of every unspoken apology.
“But I just wanted to be the first to greet you. I... I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but... I mean it this time.”
I clutched the phone tighter, my chest tightening with emotions I couldn’t name.
"Are you still there?" he whispered.
I groaned, frustration curling in my chest.
"Seriously, Chan? It’s too early, and you’ve already ruined my day."
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the sleep would return and erase this awkward conversation.
"You’re still not a morning person, huh?" he teased, but there was a tenderness in his tone that made me uncomfortable.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
