The voicemail was only seven seconds. “Hey. I’m sorry. I miss you.”

Jenna stared at the screen. Her hot coffee mug suddenly felt cold. 

Two years of silence undone by six words in seven stupid seconds.

She’d built a whole life around being over him. New job, new friends, new therapy. 

Her lungs felt small.

She didn’t call back. Not yet.

But she didn’t block him either.

She just sat there, heart cracked open like a raw egg on a hot skillet. Whispering to no one,

“…damn it. That’s all it took?”

And, yes. For her, it was.