The Night of Waiting
The night was quiet, only broken by the faint sound of cars rushing along I-95 in Connecticut. Claire Dawson sat in her living room, holding a cup of tea that had long gone cold.
Her husband, Michael, had promised to be home by seven after a late meeting. By midnight, Claire had already called his phone ten times with no answer. Finally, at two in the morning, her phone rang.
The house was silent, broken only by the distant hum of cars speeding along I-95. Claire Dawson sat curled in her living room chair, cradling a cup of tea that had long since cooled. Her husband, Michael, had promised to be home by seven after a late meeting. By midnight, unease pressed heavier with each unanswered call—ten in total. She replayed his last words, trying to steady herself. When her phone finally rang at two in the morning, Claire froze, dread and relief colliding as she reached to answer.
