He deletes the numbers. He goes to bed. He wakes up tomorrow and continues the slow, painful process of forgetting.

He wasn't ready to be that ghost in her caller ID. Not tonight.

⚡ Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is recognize when to hold back, even when every fiber of your being wants to reach out.

Would she answer? Or would it go straight to voicemail?

He presses it. It rings. She doesn't answer. He is left with the agonizing echo of an unanswered call in the middle of the night.

At the very last millisecond, Jackson stopped. He stared at the glowing screen, the incomplete number staring back at him like an unresolved chord in a country song.