He typed back slowly.
Then he deleted the number. He walked into the bedroom where Mira was actually sleeping—because she had come home at 11 p.m., exhausted, smelling of coffee and printer toner. He checked her jewelry box. Both silver hoops were there. hate 2 story
He sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. The unknown number had no profile picture. No history. Just that one venomous thread. Someone had tried to write a story about him this time. Someone had needed a villain. He typed back slowly
Now the phone buzzed again.