“I’m going home.”
He seems like he wants to lean toward me for a second, but I don’t stick around to see what he wants to do. No one is around. He doesn’t have to act the part of a perfect husband.
And I don’t need to act the part of a perfect wife.
***
The penthouse is quiet without Viktoria bustling around. I’m on my bed with my brother’s phone in my hands, staring at it like it’s a lifeline. My brother can’t be dead. Not yet. None of that is real.
My fingers tremble as I flip open the phone.
God, he never liked smartphones. He always said the older models were better.
I roll my eyes.
Stubborn old man.
I shake my head while staring at the screen. I know calling his phone will make it ring, and then I have to deal with seeing my name pop up on the screen. It’s almost too much.
I clutch the phone.
But I have to do it.
Holding two phones feels awkward. I set my brother’s phone on the bed when I call his number, watching the screen light up. Watching it go to voice mail. Hearing his voice crackle through the speaker: “Hey, you’ve reached Jonas. You know what to do.”
My lips part to speak.
All I can manage is a croak.
I close my eyes and disconnect the call. The screen lights up with a missed call notification, displaying my name:Liya Bobina.
My lips tremble.
That stupid nickname he gave me when we were just stupid little kids.I scoop up the phone as my vision blurs.After the things he did and said to me, he always kept my contact name as my nickname. He really did care about me.
Hot tears sting my eyeballs and burn as they trickle down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away. I don’t hold back the sobs. I need this as much as I need water and air. Swallowing this pain will only make it worse.
Process now. Plan later.
After several deep breaths, I open my eyes. A little white lie got me my brother’s voice. I can keep it as long as I like, call his number repeatedly if that feels better. And then I can clear the notifications, start all over again.
I squint at the screen.
10 missed calls.
That’s weird even for Jonas. Most of the calls are from Zoya. There’s one voice mail, too, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to listen to it.
My fingers tighten around the phone. Ultimately, curiosity wins me over.
I have to do it.
A few clicks later, I have the phone to my ear, listening to the small voice of the woman who somehow won over my brother. Was it really that hard to do? I had no idea what type of woman Jonas liked. He never gave me details on his dating life.
Then again, he never gave me many details about anything.
“Jonas,” Zoya whimpered. “I heard what happened. I know you’re gone. But…”
My stomach lurches.