The night was nothing but hollowness. Soft orange lights peeked through the curtains in the pitch-dark room. The soft white noise of the fan-filled in the room, and it was quite loud to her ears. The sound was keeping her up.
It had been three hours since she lied down on the bed, with a pillow saddled in between her legs. Her blanket was barely covering up her whole body, only to have her calves exposed to the breeze. It was cold, for the rain had been pouring hard the whole night. The weather and temperature seemed intentional, for her heart herself had been weeping over the coldest soul.
Three hours ago, before lights off, she dialed his number, for their usual midnight conversation. It was a routine. Every night, after a weary day at work, they talked their hearts out, gossiping about the annoying co-worker in the office, oversharing the meals they had at lunch. After an hour, they would be quarrelling over who to hang up first, and it always ended up with them counting down from three, simultaneously pressing the red button at one.
It was supposed to be a routine, but apparently not that night.
The moment the call was answered, there was no deep voice on the other line. Instead, it was sweet, melodious, and beautiful. The voice carefully said hello, and that night, she hung up first.
She had heard it from her friends. He was never lonely. A fisherman with many fishes, and he always had to choose whether to free or to keep. He told her that he would mostly free them all, that the flirty lines were nothing but a mere line. And tonight, she realized that it was not always true.
Three hours into the night, her tear ducts seemed to be dry. It was supposed to hurt, but it felt numb instead. She told herself that maybe it was because she was shocked as she hoped for the rumour to be proved wrong – but really, it was more because she had been expecting it to be true as she had been waiting for anyone to prove it right.
The call solidified the rumour and that night, she pressed another red button aside from the end-call.
“Block,” as she said that, and the night was filled with nothing but silent cries.
Edited by: Sue Addrina bt Othman
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