Chapter 16: The Voice From the Past
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a number I didn't recognize. I hesitated. It was already late, the sky outside dusted in silver-blue from the moonlight.
Jonas was still in the shower, humming something soft and half-tuned.
I almost ignored the call.
Almost.
But something—intuition, maybe—told me to answer.
I swiped to accept and lifted the phone to my ear.
"Hello?"
Nothing. Just silence.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" I asked again, slower this time, my voice rising just slightly.
Then, like a whisper pulled from a nightmare, I heard it.
"…Lina."
My name. Just my name.
But from him.
My heart stuttered. Everything inside me went still. Time bent, cracked, fractured into jagged edges. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
It was like the floor opened beneath me.
Like the ceiling crashed down at the same time.
The walls of the cabin around me—safe, warm, filled with laughter just minutes before—suddenly felt too narrow, too tight.
My throat closed. My fingers went numb.
The phone slipped from my hand and hit the wooden floor with a dull thud.
I stared at it, as if it had grown teeth.
How?
How did he find my number? I had changed phones. Changed countries. Changed my life.
I could barely move.
My chest heaved, my body stiff with a sudden, suffocating fear that coiled around me like smoke.
I could hear blood pounding in my ears, my limbs frozen.
This is what trauma does. Even years later, even after healing begins.
Sometimes, all it takes is a voice.
A single word.
For some, the body reacts before the brain can process: heart racing, breath short, eyes wide, skin cold. For others, it's the opposite—numbness, stillness, the weight of panic sinking them into the floor.
I wasn't sure which version I was anymore. Maybe both.
The door opened gently. Jonas stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his shoulders, smile still lingering from the warmth of the water. But it faded the second he saw me.
"Lina?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My gaze was still locked on the phone.
He moved fast—crossing the room in seconds, crouching in front of me, gently lifting my chin.
"Hey. Look at me. Lina, what happened?"
His voice was calm but firm, the kind of tone that grounds a person when the world goes black.
"I… it was him," I whispered. "He called me. He… he said my name."
Jonas's eyes darkened instantly, all warmth gone. "He what?"
"I don't know how he got my number. I—I changed everything. I thought he couldn't reach me."
Jonas pulled me into his arms. I collapsed against him, body trembling, face pressed to his chest. His embrace was the only thing keeping me from shattering.
"We'll figure this out," he said, voice low and protective. "You're not alone. Not anymore."
Outside, the snow fell quietly. But inside, a storm was brewing.
And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't running from it alone.