Lia's Call
Silence shattered. Mark’s phone rang. Jarring tones exploded in the stillness. He startled. Fumbled it out. Screen flashing—"Li Li." Lia. He looked at me—panic, pleading. Finger hovered over answer. Ringing persisted. "Answer," I commanded. Quiet. Authoritative. He trembled. Hit answer. Speaker on. "Hi? Mark!" Lia’s bright voice flooded the room. "Off work? Listen—just chatted with Sister Amy!"
My throat tightened. Mark blanched. "She’s wonderful! So gentle! Sent the invite, asked her to be bridesmaid!" Excitement unchecked. "She seemed unsure… understandable—she’s a big influencer! But didn’t refuse! Think she might agree!" Mark’s lips trembled; mute.
Hand shook holding the phone. "Mark? Hear me? Bad signal?" Lia puzzled. " yes…" He rasped. "What’s wrong? Sound odd? Tired?" Concern laced her tone. "Fi… fine…" Mark inhaled shakily, steadying. "You… chatted much with Amy?" Testing, terrified eyes on me. "Yeah! About the house! About you! Sister Amy even praised you!" Sweetness dripped. Praised him? When? My stomach revolted. "Mark," Lia hushed, thrilled. "Think Sister Amy might accept! If she comes… oh! My wedding’s perfect! Agree?" Innocently pressing.
Sweat beaded Mark’s brow. He bit his lip, awaiting my verdict. I studied him—crumbling before me, Lia’s "perfect" groom. I gave a slight nod. Shock blazed in Mark’s eyes. "Mar—k?" Lia drawled impatiently. "…Yeah." Gutteral noise. Painful. "She’d… be great." "Ha! Knew you’d think so! Love you! Home soon!" Lia hung up, satisfied. Dial tone. Silence reclaimed the room—denser now. Mark crumpled into an armchair. Phone thudded to the rug. Ignored it. Hands covered his face. Shoulders quivered.
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Silence shattered. Mark’s phone rang. Jarring tones exploded in the stillness. He startled. Fumbled it out. Screen flashing—"Li Li." Lia. He looked at me—panic, pleading. Finger hovered over answer. Ringing persisted. "Answer," I commanded. Quiet. Authoritative. He trembled. Hit answer. Speaker on. "Hi? Mark!" Lia’s bright voice flooded the room. "Off work? Listen—just chatted with Sister Amy!"
My throat tightened. Mark blanched. "She’s wonderful! So gentle! Sent the invite, asked her to be bridesmaid!" Excitement unchecked. "She seemed unsure… understandable—she’s a big influencer! But didn’t refuse! Think she might agree!" Mark’s lips trembled; mute.
Hand shook holding the phone. "Mark? Hear me? Bad signal?" Lia puzzled. " yes…" He rasped. "What’s wrong? Sound odd? Tired?" Concern laced her tone. "Fi… fine…" Mark inhaled shakily, steadying. "You… chatted much with Amy?" Testing, terrified eyes on me. "Yeah! About the house! About you! Sister Amy even praised you!" Sweetness dripped. Praised him? When? My stomach revolted. "Mark," Lia hushed, thrilled. "Think Sister Amy might accept! If she comes… oh! My wedding’s perfect! Agree?" Innocently pressing.
Sweat beaded Mark’s brow. He bit his lip, awaiting my verdict. I studied him—crumbling before me, Lia’s "perfect" groom. I gave a slight nod. Shock blazed in Mark’s eyes. "Mar—k?" Lia drawled impatiently. "…Yeah." Gutteral noise. Painful. "She’d… be great." "Ha! Knew you’d think so! Love you! Home soon!" Lia hung up, satisfied. Dial tone. Silence reclaimed the room—denser now. Mark crumpled into an armchair. Phone thudded to the rug. Ignored it. Hands covered his face. Shoulders quivered.
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