By the time I got back home, I was more tired than I wanted to admit. I forced myself through the routine—shower first, then dinner, then cleaning up. All the motions of being productive, but really, I was stalling.
Because what I actually wanted was to hear her voice.
I sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen longer than I should have. She was probably busy, probably working on something academic or even asleep even though it won't be night time over there. But the silence of the room pressed in on me.
So I gave in. I dialed.
The call barely rang once before she answered, her face filling the screen like she'd been waiting with the phone already in her hand.
"Hey," I said, a smile tugging at my lips the instant I saw her.
She pouted instantly.
My smile faltered. "What's wrong?"
Her voice came soft, almost a whine. "Why did you call?"
I blinked. "Wait… what?"
