Wrong Number

Pain is only temporary, they say. But they forget to add that sometimes, it can kill you in the fleeting moment it exists.

It's almost 2 a.m., and I’m still rolling around in bed, despite knowing I have to work tomorrow. I close my eyes, trying to slow my heartbeat, hoping it will lull me to sleep, but nothing works.

All I feel is the excruciating pain that pierces through me with every beat.

I hit my chest, hoping that the physical pain might somehow overpower the emotional agony.

It doesn’t. Frustrated, I get out of bed and pour myself a glass of water. The apartment feels eerily silent, a stark contrast to how it used to be when Jessica was here.

Jessica, my best friend, moved out last month after getting married. I thought I’d be next, finally tying the knot with Josh, my prince charming.

We’ve been dating for three years.

I keep replaying everything in my mind, searching for what I did wrong.

I never cheated. He was my first, my only.

I’ve never asked him for money. I’ve always been the independent one. So why? The more I think about it, the more my heart aches.

Last week, I heard on the radio that talking about your pain, even if there’s no solution, can help ease the burden. I decide to try.

I grab my phone and start typing a message to Jessica. I don’t want to wake her, though; she’s a deep sleeper. I just need to get these feelings out.

"I haven’t saved her number on my new phone, but I memorized it years ago."

"I have wished a thousand times for this to be a nightmare I could wake up from."

                                                                             "I keep wondering, what did I do wrong?"

"Tell me, Jessica, if I close my eyes now and fall asleep, will he be mine when I wake up tomorrow?"

"I have loved him with everything in me, and I still do."

                                                                                                                               "I’ve always pretended to be strong, but behind closed doors, I cry. I know it will shock you to hear this."

"It’s easier to talk to you while you’re asleep. Do you think I made a mistake by choosing Josh over Charles?"

"I couldn’t help it, he has the most amazing dimples."

"I never told you, but I had an abortion for him once."

As soon as I send that last message, I regret it. Nobody knows about the abortion. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but the pain is overwhelming.

"I’m in so much pain," I type next.

Tears stream down my face as I pour my heart out into the messages. Jessica might be in a frenzy when she sees them tomorrow, but by then, I’ll have my brave face on.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates with a reply.

“Sometimes you must hurt in order to know, fall in order to grow, lose in order to gain. For life’s greatest lessons are learned through pain.”

I froze.

Jessica? Quoting something profound? That’s new. She’s never been one to remember quotes, let alone send one at 2 a.m.

“Did you just quote Nagato?” I reply, surprised.

“I’m surprised you know where it’s from,” comes the response.

“Of course I do, I’m Naruto’s number one fan,” I reply, wiping away my tears.

For a moment, my heartache takes a backseat to curiosity. Jessica quoting Nagato? She doesn’t even know the difference between Naruto and Sasuke!

“Then clearly, you haven’t met me,” the texter replies.

What?

“You can’t be serious, Jess. I’ve known you for half my life, and you’ve never even watched a single episode of Naruto.”

“My bad,” the reply comes quickly. “I forgot to mention, I’m not Jessica. You’ve got the wrong number.”

My blood runs cold.

Did I just confess my deepest secrets to a total stranger?

This is the greatest joke of the century. Thinking about it made me crack up with a laugh I didn’t know I still had in me.

"Come on Jess, be serious," I texted, waiting for her reaction.

"I'm serious, I am not your friend," she replied, making me take a more serious stance.

"Are you telling me I no longer know your number?" I sent.

"Check the number. You might be surprised," she replied.

I viewed the number and was shocked to discover I had gotten one digit wrong. Covering my lips with my palm, I felt like a complete fool.

"Why didn’t you tell me the first time you received the text?" I asked, anxiously tapping my feet, a habit of mine when I’m nervous.

"Wanted to, but the texts came in too fast, so I decided to entertain myself with them," she said.

My heartbreak texts were a means of entertainment for this unknown person. And now, I didn’t even know if it was a she or a he.

"That is rude! You just saw my misery as your entertainment?"

"Not my fault. You might be a fifty-year-old woman bored with her marriage, looking for a young boy to s*ck on."

I gasped. Did he just call me an old hag?                                           

"If you thought it was all an act to get a fresh blood, why did you bother quoting Nagato?"

"Because I’ve always wanted to say it to someone. You just gave me the opportunity; I couldn’t let it pass," she replied.

I chose to believe it was a girl, at least that way, she could understand me better.

"It is official. You are a teenager who can’t even earn a boyfriend," I texted, hoping she would be hurt. For some reason, I wanted to mock her.

"FYI, I am not a girl, neither am I a teenager. And looking at the fact that you couldn’t keep your boyfriend, your words are for you," he texted, and my eyes widened.

It’s a man, and from his text, he isn’t a gentle one. My luck truly is the worst.

"Now I know. You are a forty-year-old man still living with his parents and jerking off every night," I retorted.

"You can say what you want, old hag," he replied.

Does that mean I was right? I stood up and went to my bed.

"I hope you forget everything I told you," I texted, hoping he wouldn’t use it to threaten me.

"I won’t. I’m even thinking of using it against you," he texted, and I instantly sat up.

"How do you mean?"

"Like you said, I’m an old man that only jerks off in my parents’ house. Do you think I’d miss the opportunity of getting laid?"

"What are you saying?" I asked, though I already knew what he was driving at.

"I’d like us to meet and have a one-night stand," he replied so bluntly that it disgusted me.

"Won’t happen," I said, already thinking of blocking him.

"I know you’re thinking of blocking me. But before you do, remember there’s an app called Truecaller. Though I couldn’t see your face because you didn’t upload your picture, I now know your name," he replied, and I nearly fainted. God, why me?

"That doesn’t matter. I’ll still block you," I said, still determined.

"Okay. I’ll just find you on WhatsApp or elsewhere. Once I get your picture, I’ll screenshot your text to me with your picture and make it go viral," he said.

I immediately removed my profile picture from WhatsApp, hoping I was fast enough. Thankfully, this number wasn’t connected to my Facebook account, so he couldn’t find me there.

"I can track you down too, you know?" I texted, hoping to threaten him back.

"This number isn’t registered on any social platform, so good luck with that," he replied. He was right; even Truecaller didn’t show his name.

Earlier tonight, I was heartbroken. Now, I was scared. Could I stand the disgrace if my texts went viral? What would my religious mother think?

"How can I trust you won’t ask for more after the one night?"

"You’ll just have to trust me," he replied.

"Too bad I don’t. Do what you must, and I promise to track you down and end your life. At least once you upload it online, you can be tracked," I said, hoping he would believe me.

"You’re right. Though I know you can’t do anything, I also have a reputation to uphold. So, I’ll give you an option," he replied.

What reputation does a jerk like him have?

"What’s the option?"

"It doesn’t involve s*x, nudes, or anything perverted. So, promise me you’ll say yes to what I’m about to ask," he said.

I got worried, but since he claimed it wasn’t perverted, I reluctantly agreed.

"Okay, I promise," I texted.

Dropping my phone, I eagerly awaited his message. My heart pounded as I closed my eyes and heard the vibration of a new text. Picking up my phone, I read his message and froze.

I was shocked beyond reason, for the third time that night.

"It hurts now, but I know it won't hurt forever. I cry now, but I know one day I will look back and be glad it ended. Thank you for the good times, and be good to your next girl. You know karma is real."

"Send this message to the guy that broke your heart," he texted, and I couldn't believe the content.

It's a good message, but reminding him of karma means I'm telling him he will get his retribution.

"Did it ever occur to you that I want him back?" I asked.

"It did. That's why it's better to send him the text. He will now know you're working on moving on and that he will get his retribution. The text might make him come back faster if he really wants to come back," he said, and I thought about it.

"You are right, but before he broke up with me, I had already started hearing rumors about him and another girl. So, he is not prepared to