Echoes of a Stranger

The morning was supposed to be like any other, but Amara's phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number, jolting her from her thoughts. She hesitated before answering, an uneasy feeling twisting in her stomach.

"Miss Amara Sullivan?" The voice on the other end was formal, detached.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm calling from the real estate office regarding the property at—"

Her heart stopped. The address he mentioned was hers. Or at least, it had been. "What about it?" she asked, her throat dry.

"The house has been sold. The papers were finalized this morning."

The ground beneath her seemed to shift. "That's impossible! I never signed anything!"

"All legal documents have been processed. The sale was authorized—"

She didn't even let him finish. She ended the call and bolted out the door. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she raced through the streets, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The moment she reached the place where her childhood memories lay buried, she stopped, frozen in shock.

The house was no longer hers. There was a large 'SOLD' sign on the front yard, mocking her. Her childhood, her last piece of family, stolen.

A dark chuckle echoed behind her. Her body stiffened before she slowly turned around.

Victor Aldridge.

He stood there, exuding power, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed her devastation like an artist admiring his masterpiece.

"Ah, what a heartbreaking sight," he mused, stepping closer. "Poor little Amara, losing everything... again."

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "You did this, didn't you? You stole my home!"

His smirk widened. "Steal? No, my dear. I simply took what was always meant to be mine. You should thank me for handling it so efficiently."

Rage burned in her chest. "This was my father's house! He built it with his own hands—"

Victor laughed cruelly. "And now, it belongs to someone else. Just like everything your father once owned."

She stepped forward, her hands trembling. "Please... don't do this. I have nowhere else to go. Please, just let me have it back."

Her voice cracked, the words thick with desperation. She didn't care how weak she looked. She just wanted something—anything—left of her past.

Victor tilted his head, pretending to consider her plea. Then, in a swift, merciless motion, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her close.

A sharp cry escaped her lips as pain seared through her scalp.

"Begging suits you, Amara," he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery. "But let me make one thing clear—you are nothing. No money, no power, no protection. You belong at the feet of men like me."

Tears spilled over, her body shaking, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't. The weight of hopelessness crushed her.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Run along now, little girl. The streets are waiting for you."

Then he shoved her back.

She stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell. When she finally looked up, he was already walking away, victorious.

Defeated and broken, she turned and walked in the opposite direction, her vision blurred with tears.

By the time she reached her tiny apartment, she felt like a ghost of herself. She collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion pressing down on her like an unbearable weight.

Then, almost without thinking, she reached for her phone.

Her fingers hovered over the screen before she typed a message to the only person who had ever made her feel seen.

[Are you there?]

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Just as she was about to give up, her phone buzzed.

[Always.]

She closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. Her fingers moved again.

[Can we talk? Just for a little while?]

The night was heavy with silence, pressing against her like an unbearable weight. Amara clutched her phone tightly, staring at the last message on the screen.

[Call me.]

She had called, and he had answered. But now, as she sat in the darkness, her fingers gripping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she feared he would disappear like everyone else.

"You shouldn't have called," his voice came through the speaker, distant, unreadable.

She swallowed, her throat dry. "I won't ask for anything… just don't hang up. Please."

A long pause. She could hear his steady breathing on the other end. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words.

"Why?" he finally asked, his voice quieter now. "Why do you need this?"

Her lips trembled. "Because I have no one else. Because I just lost everything. Because today, I was thrown away like I was nothing. And I… I can't take it anymore."

She bit her lip, forcing back tears. "You don't even have to talk. Just stay on the line. Let me pretend someone is here."

Another pause. Then, a sigh. "Amara…"

Her heart clenched at the way he said her name—like he wasn't sure if he should be doing this.

"Just this once," she whispered. "Please."

Minutes passed. He didn't speak. But he didn't hang up either.

She exhaled slowly, leaning back against the pillows, the faint sound of his breathing the only thing grounding her. And for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel entirely alone.

"Are you crying?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her knees. "I don't know how to stop."

A deep inhale from his side of the line. "People like you… you shouldn't have to beg."

A bitter smile formed on her lips. "People like me? You mean the kind that gets thrown away? The ones who lose their home, their dignity, their worth? I don't even know what I am anymore."

His voice was sharp this time. "Stop. Don't say that."

"Then tell me what I am," she challenged, her voice breaking. "Because right now, I don't know."

Another long silence.

"You're…" He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "You're strong, Amara. Stronger than you know."

She let out a shaky breath. "I don't feel strong. I feel like I'm falling apart. And no one even cares."

A long pause. Then, quietly, "I do."

Her heart stuttered. She gripped the phone tighter, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like an embrace she had never known she needed. "Why?"

He didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it. "Because someone should."

A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. She wiped at them furiously, as if trying to erase the emotions threatening to drown her.

"Do you know what it feels like to wake up and wonder if you'll make it through the day? To live in a world where no one sees you unless they want to hurt you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Yes." His answer was immediate, firm. "I do."

She swallowed hard, caught off guard. There was something in his tone—a weight, a pain—that mirrored her own.

"Then you know what it's like to feel invisible," she whispered.

A beat of silence. "I see you, Amara."

Her breath hitched. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto those words like they were the only thing keeping her afloat.

"I don't even know your name," she murmured.

"Does it matter?" he countered.

She exhaled. "Maybe not."

For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet between them was no longer suffocating. It was something else entirely—something safe, something she had never had before.

"I have to go," he finally said.

Her chest tightened. "Will you call again?"

A pause. "I don't know."

She clenched her fist around the blanket, desperation clawing at her throat. "Then… just don't disappear."

A soft chuckle, almost sad. "Goodnight, Amara."

The line went dead.

She sat there, staring at the screen, her fingers trembling. She should have felt alone again. But somehow, she didn't.

She curled under the blankets, the ghost of his voice still lingering in her mind.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she fell asleep without nightmares.