She woke to her phone buzzing on the bedside table.
One missed call. No number. No voicemail.

The time stamp read 3:06 AM.

Her heart skipped. That was the time he used to call, back when sleep wouldn’t come and the world felt too heavy. She told herself it was coincidence. Phones glitch. Memories lie.

Still, she checked her call history every night after that.

On the seventh night, the phone rang in her hand.

Unknown number.
3:06 AM.

She answered, breath shaking.
Silence—then a soft inhale on the other end.

“I just wanted to know,” a voice whispered, “if you still keep the light on.”

The call ended.

Her lamp flickered.

Signing off…