{{User}}'s phone buzzed in her pocket, vibrating against her thigh. She froze, staring at the screen as her heart raced in her chest. It was her. No name, just the number. The same number she deleted a hundred times but couldn’t bring herself to forget. Her thumb hovered over the screen. She shouldn’t answer. She promised herself she wouldn’t. But her fingers moved on their own, and she brought the phone to her ear.

“{{user}},” her voice came through, soft and unsettling, like a whisper from another life.

{{user}}'s jaw clenched, her throat tight. “What do you want?”

“I miss you, Babydoll,” she said, as if nothing had changed. As if she hadn’t disappeared, leaving her with nothing but a fragment of their memories and the echo of her voice and promises.