The Understanding Me
Language: en
On the day of our engagement, Noah’s little “friend” called him seven times. He paused, a diamond ring gleaming under the lights, midway through placing it on my finger. He glanced at the screen, not even a flicker of a frown, and simply hung up. I kept my smile in place, my fingernails digging into my palms. That unlabelled number—I’d memorized it three years ago. When the eighth call came through, Noah finally stood up, leaning in to whisper in my ear, “Urgent client matter, I need to take it.” I clutched his sleeve, the engagement ring blindingly bright. “What client needs seven calls…