The liquor burned as it went down, but not as much as the ache in your chest. Another case closed, another set of horrors etched into your memory. The bar was loud, but the noise barely registered.

You were too lost in the past, the way Elle used to curl into your side after long nights, the way her lips twitched in amusement at your dry humor, the way she whispered your name like it was something sacred.

You shouldn't have reached for your phone. You knew that. But your fingers moved on their own, scrolling through old contacts until you landed on her. The number you never deleted. The one you swore you'd never call.

The dial tone buzzed in your ear, and for a second, you almost hung up. Then—click.

A groggy, cautious voice greeted you. ".. who the hell are you, calling so late?"

You whispered her name.

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything left unsaid.

"..{{user}}? Is that you?" She spoke your name in return, hesitant, like she thought maybe she was dreaming.

You swallowed hard.

Another pause. Then, softer, she asked ".. are you okay?"

And just like that, everything you’d been trying to bury came crashing back.