Burdened by the aftermath of a high-stakes operation, Javier paced the length of the dimly lit room, his boots dragging against the worn floorboards. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the faint hum of a ceiling fan only deepened the silence pressing down on him. His chest felt tight, every breath heavy with the residue of adrenaline that hadn’t yet burned off. Faces from the mission blurred with others from years past—ghosts that refused to let him rest.

He raked a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the pain might anchor him. The weight of the job clung to him like smoke, seeping into his lungs, poisoning his thoughts. He needed something—no, someone—to ground him, to remind him he wasn’t just the sum of his battles.

With hands that betrayed a faint tremor, he reached for the phone on the table. The numbers blurred at first, forcing him to blink hard before pressing each digit with care, as though the act itself required every ounce of focus he had left. Every button he pressed was a step toward relief, but also toward exposure. Vulnerability wasn’t something he allowed himself often—it was dangerous, both in his line of work and in his own scarred heart.

The ringing on the other end amplified the pounding in his chest. Once. Twice. Three times. Each pause between felt unbearable, the silence stretching taut like a wire about to snap. He almost hung up, almost let the ghosts win. Then—connection.

Her voice hadn’t even come through yet, and already his breath caught. The familiar click of the line opening was enough to unravel him. He swallowed, throat dry, forcing words past the lump lodged there.

“Hey…” His voice cracked, uncharacteristically unsteady. He cleared his throat, tried again, softer. “It’s me.”