Page 38 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
She lay in bed wearing a loose hospital gown, holding a book. When she saw me walk in with Lucas, surprise flickered across her face.
"Been a while."
Lucas just gave Maya a distant nod. That counted as a greeting for them.
"Ella." Maya set down her book, her voice weak but clear.
I went to her and took her hand. It felt cold, the skin tinged yellow—side effects from years of dialysis.
My throat tightened, but I pushed it down. Like always, I started doing what I could.
I pulled out her favorite dried cranberries from my bag, along with vitamin supplements, placing them one by one in the bedside table drawer. Then came the pill organizer. I opened it and counted each pill, checking dosages and quantities for mistakes. When I discovered Maya had skipped two blood pressure pills again, I sighed, dumped everything out toreorganize, peeled off the old labels, and stuck on new dates. She never remembered these things.
I'd done these little tasks so many times they'd become muscle memory. Usually, I'd chat with her while I worked, the atmosphere light as an afternoon breeze. When I finished, I'd curl up on the old couch for a nap, often waking just as visiting hours ended.
These weekly visits were my only relief.
But today felt different.
Because Lucas stood by the door.
He'd insisted on coming to the sanatorium today. God knows why. In front of Mr. Rockefeller, I couldn't refuse. I didn't want to worry the old man.
From the moment I got in his car, he'd maintained that cold, aristocratic distance, not saying a word to me. Same now. Leaning against the doorframe, head down, playing with his phone. Not helping with anything. Yet his presence filled the room like a boulder, making the air itself feel thin.
Whenever he looked up from his phone, his eyes landed on me. Beneath those high brow bones, his gray-blue eyes hid in shadow, reflecting impatience. He never said he was in a hurry, but I knew he hated being here. As if because of me, he had to waste his precious time in this place. Every time he looked over, my palms broke out in sweat. My movements grew clumsier, each joint stiff as rusted metal.
Suddenly, Lucas's phone rang.
"I need to take this." He turned and walked out.
I collapsed onto the couch like a deflated balloon, gasping for air.
"Ella." Maya's voice drifted over. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Eyes closed, I shook my head. "I don't want to talk right now."
"You two haven't exchanged a single word."
I opened my eyes. "What?"
"You and Lucas," Maya repeated. "Not a single word."
I met Maya's gaze. Her eyes were clear and sharp, like she'd already seen through everything. My stomach clenched, as if something had grabbed hold of it.
This was the second time Maya had asked me something like this. Knowing her, if she wasn't already certain, she wouldn't ask again.
I couldn't hide it anymore.
I bit my lip, hesitating. But finally I spoke.
"Maya, I..." I clenched my fists, nails digging into flesh, pain giving me strength. "I want to divorce Lucas."
The moment the words left my mouth, I felt lighter. No more lies to Maya.
I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. The expected shock never came. Maya just leaned back against her pillow and let out a long breath.
"Ella, I raised you. I know all your little tells when you're lying."
