THE CALL AT 2 A.M.
The phone rang at 2:03 a.m.
Not the soft vibration of a late message. Not the familiar chime of a notification. This was sharp, insistent—cutting through the silence like a blade dragged across glass.
Lena woke with a jolt, her breath catching somewhere between a dream and dread. The room was dark, the kind of darkness that felt heavy, as if it had weight. Beside her, the bed was cold.
Daniel hadn’t come home.
Again.

For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, listening. The hum of the air conditioner. The faint ticking of the clock. The phone kept ringing.
Something inside her twisted.
She reached for it.
“Hello?”
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