The night before my father’s funeral, I couldn’t sleep—haunted by the call I never returned. But it wasn’t just grief that kept me awake. It was the strange voicemail trail, a cold hug from my mother-in-law, and one odd question about 1981 that would change everything.
The kitchen clock ticked louder than usual.
Every sound—the fridge humming, the wooden chair creaking beneath me—felt like it echoed through a cave.
I stirred my cold tea without taking a sip. It had gone bitter, but I didn’t care.
My eyes kept falling to my phone.
The screen was dark, but I knew what I’d see if I opened it again—Dad’s name, four missed calls.
The last one had come while I was driving. I’d told him I’d call back.
I never did.
The regret clawed at my chest. It wasn’t just about the missed call. It was knowing that our final moment together was unfinished.
There was no “I love you” to hold onto. Just silence.
Footsteps broke through the noise in my head. Adam, my husband, appeared in the doorway.
He looked tired too, but when he saw me, he softened.
“Lucy, you okay?” His voice was quiet, careful, like he didn’t want to startle me.
I shook my head.
“No. I just keep thinking…
what if I had answered? What if I had called him back? Maybe he wanted to tell me something important.
Maybe he just wanted to hear my voice.”
Adam sat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders.
I leaned into his chest. His warmth made the ache in my heart feel a little less sharp.
He glanced at my phone, which buzzed lightly on the table.
“My mom called you four times yesterday.”
I snorted, dry and bitter. “That’s not like her.”
Adam nodded.
“Yeah, it’s weird.
Maybe she wanted to say something. She’s been… quiet lately.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You know she can’t stand me.
I’ve tried, Adam. I really have.
And all I’ve ever gotten in return is cold stares and backhanded compliments.”
He didn’t argue.
He knew it was true.
“Still,” he said gently, “maybe this is different.”
I sighed, staring down at the cup in my hands.
“Not today.
Not now. I can’t deal with her too.”
We sat there in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
The kind of silence that wraps around you and makes everything feel heavier.
Eventually, Adam stood and held out his hand.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
