I Sent Him 89 Voice Messages He Sent 89 Transfers Chapter 05

I Sent Him 89 Voice Messages He Sent 89 Transfers Chapter 05

Before I could get the words out, a loud commotion erupted from inside the room.

It drowned out my voice, so weak I could barely hear myself.

“Cole!” Ivy screamed, her voice cracking. “My hand! A piece of the plate cut me. It hurts so bad!”

Cole’s face changed. He spun around and ran back inside.

“Don’t move! I’m calling the base doctor right now!”

The worry in his voice was raw. He didn’t even try to hide it.

I stood on the porch. The cold night wind cut through my thin clothes.

My heart, long broken and scarred, felt no pain this time around.

Just emptiness. Hollow numbness. Nothing.

I didn’t want to go back to that cold house. I hailed a taxi and headed for my father’s old military residential building.

My phone buzzed. A text from Cole.

The first real message he’d sent me in four years.

“Come back and make Ivy some brown sugar oatmeal porridge to apologize. She only likes the way you make it.”

I stared at it for a long time. Then I laughed.

I called him. He picked up right away. His voice was still impatient.

“You hear me? Ivy said she’ll only drink it if you make it.”

“Cole.” I cut him off. My voice was light as wind.

“If I die, will you be sad?”

The question that had haunted me for months. Finally, I got to ask it out loud.

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then his voice shot up.

“Maya, what the hell is wrong with you lately?”

“Who told you to keep saying stuff like that? If you need money, just say it plainly!”

“It’s not like I won’t give it to you. Where are you? I’ll come right now.”

In the end, he still didn’t give me an answer.

But it didn’t matter anymore. It really didn’t.

I hung up. I lay down on the wooden bed I used to share with my dad when I was little.

From an old tin box, I took out an old phone that had been powered off for years.

Inside were all the chats between Cole and me from when we were in our early twenties.

“Saw a rainbow today. I hear the success rate for confessions is super high on rainbow days.”

“Who are you confessing to?”

“A certain dumb girl named Maya Vance, who is always slow to catch on.”

The pain had spread from my leg bones to my whole body. A hundred hands tearing at my insides.

I wanted to laugh. Cry. Scream. Shout. But no sound came out.

Only a single warm tear slowly slid from the corner of my eye.

I read through over seven thousand messages. Then I deleted them all.

With the last of my strength, I swallowed all the painkillers and sedatives.

My consciousness started to fade. The pain slowly eased.

For the first time in months, a sincere smile finally tugged at my lips.

I closed my eyes softly. And said to myself:

Cole, I’m free.

I don’t hate you anymore.

I hope this time, you marry the girl you really love.