Olivia – First Person POV

The gala still echoed in my thoughts the next morning, playing on repeat in disjointed fragments, his voice, his eyes, the questions in our eyes when we looked at each other like time hadn’t moved.

I hadn’t slept much. My heels were still by the door, the dress crumpled on a chair like a crumbled memory. I kept pacing my kitchen with a half-full mug of tea I hadn’t touched, every footstep steady and yet shaky on the inside.

Then my phone buzzed. Unknown number.

My heart stuttered, I didn’t even need to guess.

I let it ring once. Twice. On the third, I answered....