The apartment breathed silence. From the wide-open window came the breath of a June evening — dust, lilac, and something elusive, like the echo of an old, forgotten summer. The phone screen blinked on the table.

She sat on the floor in an oversized sweater, barefoot, half-hidden by shadow. Jett peeked from behind the door, phone in hand, wearing a conspiratorial smile.

“Mom, come on. Just say: ‘Good night.’ It’s a trend”.

She looked at him for a long time. Then nodded. Not because she agreed. But because she was tired of arguing.

Her fingers trembled as she dialed the number. No name saved, but memory knew it by heart.

Ring. Ring. Click.

“Hello?” — the voice was hoarse, as if through smoke, years, and unspoken words.

“Hi…” she said softly, almost apologetically.

“Who is this?”

“It’s me.”

A pause. Only breathing on the line.

“How are you?”

“I live in Colorado. In the mountains. And you?”

“At home. Jett lost a tooth today. Celebrates like he won a championship.”

He chuckled. Almost laughed.

“Never thought you’d tell me about teeth.”

“I didn’t think so either.”

Silence again. Awkward, but familiar.

“Are you alone?”

She glanced at the nightlight, the toys on the floor. At Jett, secretly filming everything.

“Almost,” she said. “Basically, yes.”

He didn’t ask more. She didn’t explain.

“Why did you call, miss?”

She took a breath. Learned to breathe in difficult places.

“I just… wanted to say good night, Ben.”

“Good night?..” he repeated, and suddenly a light laugh rang in his voice. “After ten years you call… just to say good night?”

He laughed quietly, a little embarrassed, as if he didn’t understand why it affected him so much.

“You were always strange,” he said, smiling. “But this… this is something new.”

She smiled back, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

He shook his head and sighed, the laughter fading slowly, leaving behind a gentle confusion and warmth.

“No. Just… unexpected.”