He Blocked My Number the Night I Died Chapter 01

The wildfire reached our backyard at 6:14 p.m.

I was eight months pregnant and alone.

I called my husband nine times.

On the tenth call, he finally answered.

“Nora, stop. Sienna’s having a panic attack.”

Then he blocked my number.

And I watched the flames climb the fence toward me.

The smoke had turned the sky over the canyon the color of a bruise. Ash fell like snow and stuck to the windows. Somewhere down the hill, a propane tank exploded, and the whole house shook.

I stood in the kitchen with one hand on my belly and the other gripping my phone so hard my knuckles

went white.

Call eleven.

The number you have dialed is not available.

I stared at the screen. Five years of marriage, and that was where it ended. A robot voice telling me my husband didn’t want to hear from me.

My car was gone. Caleb had taken it that morning because Sienna had “borrowed” his Range Rover again and never brought it back. “You don’t need to go anywhere,” he’d said, kissing my forehead without looking at me. “The fire’s miles away. Just rest.”

The fire was not miles away anymore.

I called my mother.

She picked up on the second ring. I could hear music and laughter behind her. A wine glass clinked.

“Mom, the fire’s here. It’s at the house. I need someone to come get me. Please.”

A long sigh.

“Nora, honey. Sienna already told us you’d do this.”

My stomach dropped. “Do what?”

“Make up some emergency. She’s been so shaken by the evacuation news, and she said the minute Caleb came to sit with her, you’d find a way to pull him back.” Her voice went tight. “Your sister has an anvint disorder. You have a husband who adores you and a baby on the way. Can’t you let her have

“Mom, I can see the flames.”

“Then call 911 like a normal person.”

“I did. The lines are jammed. Mom, I’m-”

My father’s voice cut in. Cold. Annoyed.

“Diane, hang up. She’s thirty years old. If she’s truly in danger, the fire department will handle it.”

The line went dead.

I stood there, breathing smoke, feeling something inside me go very quiet.

My phone buzzed. A notification.

@SiennaAshford just posted.

My thumb moved on its own.

It was a photo. Sienna, curled on her white velvet sofa in her downtown penthouse, forty miles from any fire. A cashmere blanket around her shoulders. My husband’s arm around her waist. Caleb’s face was turned toward her, soft and worried, the way he hadn’t looked at me in two years.

The caption read:

All I said was I couldn’t breathe, and he dropped everything to come hold my hand. Some people just know

what real love looks like.

Forty-three comments already.

He’s a keeper!!

Is that Caleb Vance?? Isn’t he married to your sister lol

The sister is probably jealous. She always looks miserable in photos.

I didn’t have time to cry.

The back window exploded inward.

Heat hit my face like an open oven. Flames poured across the deck. The curtains caught first, then the dining table, then the framed wedding photo on the wall-Caleb and me, smiling at an altar where, I

remembered now, he’d left halfway through the reception because Sienna had called him crying.

I ran.

Or tried to. At eight months, running is a stagger. I made it down the hall toward the front door and yanked

it open.

The front yard was burning too.

The only way out was the pool.

I stumbled through the side door, across scorching stone, and lowered myself into the water as the roof of my home began to scream.

Then a pain ripped through my belly so hard I couldn’t breathe.

Warm water rushed down my legs, warmer than the pool.

My baby was coming.

Right now.

In the middle of the fire.

I pulled my phone from my pocket with shaking fingers and opened the only thing he couldn’t block.

Voicemail.

“Caleb,” I whispered, as the sky above me turned orange. “If you ever listen to this… I want you to know I called you first.”

Then the burning roof collapsed toward the water.