Chapter 7

The Call That Changed Everything

My phone buzzed as I walked, a faint vibration against the silence of my thoughts.

Maybe it's Evelyn.

My heart leapt into my throat as I reached into my pocket, my fingers trembling as I fumbled to pull the phone out. For a split second, hope surged through me, wild and reckless. Maybe she'd finally realized she couldn’t live without me. Maybe she regretted signing those divorce papers. Maybe she missed me as much as I missed her.

I pressed the power button, and the screen lit up. But the name staring back at me isn’t Evelyn’s.

It was my landlord.

I let out a sigh, disappointment washing over me like a cold wave. Of course, it wasn’t her. Why will it be? She hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t reached out in any way since I’d seen her signature on those papers.

The landlord’s call reminded me of another looming issue, rent. I hadn’t paid it yet, and with no job, no savings, and no Evelyn, the idea of keeping this small apartment felt more impossible by the second. It had been days since I’d gone to work, and I wasn’t even sure if I still had a job to go back to.

My thumb hovered over the decline button. I couldn’t deal with that right now. The idea of having to explain why I didn’t have the money or what was happening in my life was too much. I pressed decline and shoved the phone back into my pocket, my mind racing with a thousand different thoughts.

The city buzzed around me, people moving past me like shadows as I wandered the streets aimlessly. Everywhere I looked, I saw reminders of Evelyn, young couples holding hands, women who looked like her, places we used to visit together. Every corner of this city seemed to be stained with memories of her, of us, and it was unbearable.

I stopped in front of a small café, the kind of place we used to go to on Sundays. I could picture her now, sitting at a table near the window, her eyes sparkling as she sipped her coffee, smiling at me from across the table. We would talk for hours about nothing and everything, our dreams, our future, the life we wanted to build together. Back then, it all seemed so simple. I had believed that love was enough, that as long as we had each other, we could make it through anything.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I pushed open the door to the café and stepped inside. The warmth hit me immediately, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. I found an empty table in the corner, away from the crowd, and sat down, burying my face in my hands.

My mind was a storm, swirling with questions I couldn’t answer. How had we gone from that happy couple to this? How had everything fallen apart so quickly? I replayed the last few months over and over in my head, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when things had started to go wrong, but I couldn’t. It was like trying to catch smoke, slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I tried to hold onto it.

The divorce papers had blindsided me. I hadn’t seen it coming, not at all. Sure, things hadn’t been perfect, but what marriage was? I had thought we were going through a rough patch, that we would get through it like we always did. I never imagined she’d leave me. I never imagined I’d lose her.

I glanced down at my phone again, willing it to buzz, willing her name to appear on the screen. But it didn’t. It stayed silent, just like it had been for days.

What is she doing right now? Is she thinking about me? Does she regret it, even a little?

The questions were endless, and they tormented me.

The waitress approached my table, her notepad in hand. “Can I get you anything?” she asked, her voice bright and cheerful, a sharp contrast to the gloom that hung over me.

“Just coffee,” I muttered, barely looking up.

She nodded and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

I stared out the window, watching the world pass me by. Everyone else seemed to have their lives together, while mine is unraveling at the seams. I felt like a spectator in my own life, watching everything I had built crumble around me, powerless to stop it.

I thought about calling Evelyn. I thought about reaching out to her, begging her to explain, to tell me why she had done this, why she had left me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. A part of me was afraid of what she might say. What if she tells me she does love me anymore? What if she had already moved on? The thought of hearing those words from her lips was more than I could bear.

The waitress returned with my coffee, setting it down in front of me with a polite smile. I mumbled a thank you and wrapped my hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into my cold skin.

I stared into the black liquid, my mind drifting back to the first time I met Evelyn. It had been in a similar café, back when we were both university students. She had been sitting at the table next to mine, typing furiously on her laptop, completely oblivious to the world around her. I had been captivated by her from the moment I saw her. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something more. Something about the way she carried herself, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the things she was passionate about. I had never met anyone like her.

We had struck up a conversation, and the rest was history. We had been inseparable ever since, until now.

I took a sip of the coffee, the bitterness burning my throat, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was her. All I could feel was the crushing weight of her absence.

How had it come to this? How had we gone from being so in love to this? I didn’t have any answers. All I had were questions that seemed to grow louder with each passing day.

I was still lost in thought when my phone buzzed again. My heart jumped, and I fumbled to pull it out of my pocket, my hands shaking.

Evelyn, I prayed silently. Please let it be you.

But it wasn’t.

This time, it was an unknown number.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it, but something in the back of my mind told me to answer. I hesitated for a second before swiping to accept the call, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said, my voice hoarse from the hours of silence.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a familiar voice I hadn’t expected to hear.

“Austin?”

I froze. It wasn’t Evelyn. It was her father.

“Mr.?” I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion. Why is he calling me? What does he want?

“I need to talk to you,” he said, his tone brusque and authoritative, as always. “It’s important.”

I leaned back in my chair, my heart racing. What could he possibly have to say to me now? He had never approved of me, never thought I was good enough for his daughter. I had no idea why he would be reaching out now, especially after the divorce papers.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“It’s about Evelyn,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. “There are some things you don’t know. Things you need to know.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “What do you mean? What things?”

There is a long pause on the other end, and I could hear him take a deep breath before he continued. “Meet me at my office tomorrow. I’ll explain everything then.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to demand answers now, but before I could say anything, he hung up, leaving me with more questions than ever.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the phone in my hand, my mind racing. What could he possibly have to tell me? What could he know that I didn’t?

I didn’t trust him. I never had. He had always looked down on me, always thought I wasn’t good enough for Evelyn. But if there was even a chance that he could give me answers, that he could help me understand what was going on, I had to take it.

I finished my coffee in silence, my mind swirling with possibilities. Maybe this meeting would give me the answers I had been searching for. Maybe it would explain why Evelyn had left, why she had signed those papers without a word.

Or maybe it would just leave me more broken than before.

Either way, I had no choice. I had to go. I had to know the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

I stood up from the table, tossing a few bills on the counter before heading back into the cold. My phone buzzed again, but this time I didn’t look. I didn’t need to.

Tomorrow, I will get my answers.

Or at least, I hoped I will.