The Phone
He nodded before adding, “Oh.... and before I forget.”
Then, like some magician pulling a trick, he reached behind him and handed me a box. I didn’t even know where it came from. I looked at it, puzzled, then looked back at him.
“This is kind of… our wedding gift to you,” he said with a smile. “You’re welcome.”
I stared at the box for a moment, then slowly opened it. Inside was a brand new iPhone, the latest model. Sleek. Perfect. Untouched.
“You bought me a phone?” I asked, narrowing my eyes, unsure whether to be shocked, grateful, or… something else entirely.
“Yeah. Consider it a wedding present from me and Bella,” he said. “She told me you didn’t have one, and we thought you might need it. Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, fingers brushing over the pristine glass. “I like it.”
He gave me a small nod like he was pleased with my reaction. “Don’t worry, it already has a SIM card inserted. I saved everyone’s number, Bella, Mom and Dad, Cullen... even your bodyguard.”
I blinked. “My bodyguard?”
He laughed a little. “Yeah, Tony. Cullen chose him for you personally.”
“Really? I didn’t even know I had one...”
“Well, you do,” he said with a shrug. “And his number’s already in there. I also added your family’s numbers, your dad and brothers. You know… just in case you ever want to talk to them.”
I stared at him, trying to find the right words. “Thank you,” I finally said, voice quiet.
Cyrus had thought of everything—things Cullen hadn’t even asked about. Things I didn’t even know I needed. It was thoughtful. It was warm. It was more than I ever expected from someone who wasn’t even my husband.
Bella was lucky. So lucky.
And for the briefest moment, I allowed myself to wonder again—if things had gone as they were supposed to… if Cyrus had gone to that wedding instead of Cullen, how different would my life be? I would’ve been ten times—no, a hundred times—luckier.
I smiled at him, and he nodded as if he understood every unspoken word.
Then he turned and left, following his wife and child out of the house.
And I was left standing there, holding a phone I didn’t ask for but somehow desperately needed—wondering what exactly I was supposed to feel.
When they left, I went straight to my room, phone clutched tightly in my hand like it was something sacred. I didn't even think—I just acted. And the first number I dialled was my dad’s.
It was crazy how much I had thought of him these past few days… and how much I hadn’t. But being here—surrounded by strangers who called themselves family—I started to hear him in the quiet moments. I picked up on the silence, on the absence. On the way, his tinkering used to fill the house. That familiar background noise. I missed it more than I expected.
The phone rang once, then again.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Dad,” I said quickly, my voice bursting with emotion. “It’s me. Sarah.”
There was a pause. A long one. And then he said, “Sarah?” like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.
“Yeah,” I said. “I have a phone now.”
“You have a phone?” he repeated, still sounding surprised. “Your husband gave it to you? I’m assuming… Cullen Cincinnati?”
I don’t know why, but I hesitated. I mean… it wasn’t a lie.
“Yeah. He did,” I said.
There was a small silence. Not awkward, just… distant. Then I added,
“I’m so happy to talk to you. I’ve missed you so much.”
And that surprised me too. Because I stayed in the same house with him for a whole week and did not even get to see or talk to him. But now? I missed him.
“Oh. That’s nice,” he said, the words soft, unsure. “How’s married life? How are the Cincinnati’s treating you?”
“It’s been… nice,” I replied. “Everyone is really kind. It’s been okay. But I still miss home.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I bet you do. If anyone mistreats you or anything, just tell your husband.”
I froze for a second.
I don’t know why, but part of me had expected him to say, tell me. 'Tell me, if someone hurts you'. But I guess… I wasn’t his responsibility anymore. I was a Cincinnati now. My problems belonged to them.
“I will,” I said softly.
“Okay. I’m gonna head off now,” he said. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“Okay, Dad. Thanks... This is my number. You can call me whenever. About anything.”
“Okay,” he said.
And then, just like that, the call ended.
But right before the line went dead, I whispered,
“I love you.”
I don’t know if he heard it. But I said it anyway.
I was so excited to get the phone. Giddy, even. But once the high started to settle, I realized something, there wasn’t really anyone else I wanted to call.
My brothers? Please. What would we even say to each other? We hadn't been close in years. I had no friends left, at least none I could reach out to without explaining where I was or what I was doing. And I wasn’t ready for that conversation.
So, I found a better use for the phone.
I downloaded a bunch of social media apps. Every single one I could think of. I just started scrolling, mindlessly jumping from feed to feed. At home, I wasn’t allowed to have social media, not openly, anyway. But I’d had one secret account back in school, used mostly to keep up with classmates and peek into lives that weren’t mine. So, I logged back into it, dusted it off, and fell down the rabbit hole.
That’s how the rest of my day went. Lost in the lives of other people. Watching their happiness, their chaos, their curated little moments while I sat in someone else’s home trying to remember what mine used to feel like.
Dinner came and went. I barely noticed it. I was asleep before Cullen came in, and by the time I woke up, he was gone again.
That’s how the days passed.
Bella always came to the Cincinnati estate, usually around ten. Most times she brought Cesar, sometimes not. She always left before or after lunch. On rare occasions, she returned later but never stayed for dinner.
She once told me it was something she and Cyrus agreed on, dinner was sacred. No matter what, the three of them always ate together.
Meanwhile, Cullen was a ghost.
I hadn’t seen him since the morning after our first night in the house. No words, no eye contact just subtle traces of his existence: a used towel, a moved jacket, a dent in the bed. Sometimes I even started to wonder if I’d imagined him altogether. And strangely… it was easier that way.
No Culen meant no tension. No confusion. No awkward silences or cold stares. I started convincing myself he didn’t exist. That this marriage was more of a technicality. And maybe, just maybe, I could live with that.
But then came the first Sunday of the month at the Cincinnati household.
Apparently, on the first Sunday of every month, it was a family dinner. Everyone had to be there, no excuses. My mother-in-law was thrilled about it. She kept saying how great it was going to be, and how much she looked forward to these dinners since her whole family was always at the table.
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