Lia

The call came at three in the morning. I knew who it was. His name flashed across the screen, pulsing red in the dim light of my bedroom. I knew what he wanted. And I was enjoying the anticipation. I pressed the answer button.

"What the fuck?" he growled, without even saying hello. His voice was hoarse with rage and, I suspected, alcohol.

“I’m glad to hear from you too,” I replied, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible.

• Where is she? Where the hell is Leah?

Ah, Leah. That same blonde with the angelic smile he had been infatuated with while I had considered our relationship something precious. That same Leah who was now sleeping peacefully in my bed.

“She’s here,” I paused, enjoying his silence. “With me.”

There was a muffled growl on the other end of the line, like the death cry of a wounded animal. He hung up, and I just grinned, enjoying my victory.

She put the phone on the nightstand and looked at Leah, who sleepily stretched and opened her eyes.

“Who was that?” she whispered.

“Nobody,” I replied and kissed her on the cheek, hugging her. “We just made a mistake...”