"...if I called, would you pick it up?"

||

IT RINGS FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE FOREVER.

Mae twists the cigarette between her fingers lazily, desperate to chase away the fluttering butterflies in her chest. All she needs is to hear her voice. Just one word. Just her name. It's so selfish, but Mae always loved the way she said her name, low an—

The line cracks.

Her heart leaps, twisting into a knot with everything she had been ready to spill moments ago.

"Mae?"

A shaky smile tugs at her lips. Why does that still make her dizzy?

"Imani," she whispers, letting the soft, summer breeze steal her voice.

A small exhale bleeds through the line. Somehow, it still holds all the things that Mae can't forget. All the love. "Five minutes after midnight, Mae," she says gently, a trace of amusement in her mock accusation.

Fuck, why did Mae miss that so much?

"I know."

"You shouldn't be calling me."

"I know," Mae admits, the bitter betrayal stinging her eyes. Maybe Imani had always been right. "You didn't answer my text and I just... I wanted to hear your voice."

"Why?"

"Because I... I miss you, 'Mani."

Her breath hitches with the old nickname. "I miss you too, Mae."