Her Voice in the Dark

Her Voice in the Dark The night had settled into that quiet hour where everything feels softer, heavier—like the world is holding its breath. My room was dark except for the dim glow of the streetlamp sneaking through the curtains. I should’ve been asleep. Instead, I lay staring at the ceiling, mind drifting aimlessly. Then my phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a name I hadn’t seen in years. Riya. For a moment, I just stared at it. We hadn’t spoken since college—no fights, no drama, just life pulling us in different directions until silence filled the space where late-night study sessions and shared secrets used to live. I answered before I could think. “Hello?” There was a pause—soft, shaky—and then her voice slipped through the speaker, low and familiar in a way that tugged something deep inside me. “Hey… I hope it’s not too late.” Her voice. God. It had been years, but I recognized it instantly. She still spoke gently, like she was unsure if the night could handle her truth. “It’s late,” I said. “But not too late for you.” Another small pause. A quiet breath. “I didn’t know who else to call.” I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around me. “What’s going on?” She hesitated, and I could...