Lyra
I stepped out of the shower.
Tightening my towel tighter around myself, I half-mindedly reached for the phone on the dressing table when it buzzed.
James.
It had to be him.
He’d been calling me multiple times daily with different numbers as if changing them would change my answer, and each time his voice was the same. Cold, desperate, manipulative. I already braced myself for it, thumb hovering over the decline button.
But when I looked at the screen, it was not a call. It was just a random service text.
I stared at it for a long moment, with a frown. I’d actually thought it was him. He didn’t call yesterday or today.
The silence was strange, but a sigh slipped out of me anyway. Maybe, he’d given up and finally accepted that I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.
I dressed qui
