THE CALL
THE CALL
~Anna's POV
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The curtain falls on Act Two to thunderous applause.
Standing ovation. All 150 people on their feet. In the front row, I see a woman wiping tears. A Meridian executive mouths "incredible" to his colleague. Dwayne has actual tears in his eyes.
I did this. Made them feel something real.
So why does it feel so hollow?
The cast takes our bows. Tommy nearly trips over his toga but recovers with a flourish that gets laughs. When the curtain falls for the last time, I immediately scan the wings for Mark.
He's not there.
"Anna!" Tommy appears, still tangled in his costume. "That was incredible! But hey—Mark left. Like, immediately. Said he needed air."
My stomach drops. "He left?"
"Right after curtain. Didn't even change." Tommy's expression shifts, uncertain. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." The lie tastes bitter.
I pull out my phone.
Me: Mark, please. Can we talk?
The message delivers. Read. No response.
"Anna Chen?" A woman in an expensive suit appears, flanked by two other Meridian executives. "Spectacular performance. We'd love to schedule a meeting this week to discuss your future with the production."
"I—yes. Thank you."
She hands me a business card. "Call my office Monday. We have some very exciting opportunities to discuss."
They sweep away, already talking among themselves. I hear the words "star quality" before they're out of earshot.
This should be everything I wanted.
I try Mark again.
Me: I'm sorry. I panicked. I shouldn't have dragged you into that.
Delivered. Read. Nothing.
The theater empties slowly. Cast members filter out in groups, still buzzing with adrenaline. The whole cast is heading to Murphy's to celebrate, but I can't. Not until I fix this with Mark.
Soon it's just me in the dressing room, staring at my phone.
Mark's gone. Left without even changing. Without saying goodbye.
Because of me.
I hang up Seline's costume with shaking hands, remove the stage makeup. In the mirror, Anna Chen looks hollow-eyed. Guilty.
The star necklace catches the light. Everything I touch turns to disaster.
Me: I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But please, just let me explain.
Read. Still nothing.
By the time I leave the theater, it's nearly eleven. The night air is cold, sharp against my face.
One more try.
Me: I'm sorry. For all of it. You deserved better.
I sit in my car, watching the screen.
Read.
Then finally, a response:
Mark: I went along with the lie because for one second, I let myself believe you meant it. That's on me. Don't text me again tonight.
My heart drops.
Me: Mark, please—
Mark: I need space, Anna. Give me that, at least.
Then nothing.
I stare at the messages, throat tight. I hurt him. Really hurt him.
And I don't know how to fix it.
\---
Daisy's waiting when I get home, curled up on the couch with tea.
"So," she says carefully. "That was quite a night."
I sink onto the couch beside her. "I messed up."
"With Mark?"
"With everything." I pull my knees to my chest. "He left immediately after the performance. Won't talk to me. I hurt him, Daisy."
"Why did you lie about dating him?"
"I panicked. Jamal was asking me out, and I couldn't handle it. The attention. So I grabbed the nearest excuse."
"Which was Mark."
"Which was Mark." My voice cracks. "And now he hates me."
"He doesn't hate you. He's hurt." Daisy sets down her tea. "But Anna, be honest. Are you upset because you hurt Mark? Or because losing Mark means you're alone again?"
The question hits harder than it should.
"I don't know," I whisper.
"That's what you need to figure out." Her voice is gentle but firm. "Because if you don't have feelings for him beyond friendship, stringing him along because you're scared of being alone isn't fair to either of you."
I nod, throat tight.
"For what it's worth," Daisy adds, "your performance tonight was incredible. You should be proud."
"I am. I think. It's just hard to feel it right now."
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
I almost don't answer. But something makes me pick up.
"Hello?"
"Anna Chen." The voice is warm, confident, unmistakably Jamal Santos. "Thought you might be avoiding me after that spectacular performance tonight."
"How did you get my number?"
"Your director. Told him I wanted to congratulate you personally on the performance. He was very accommodating."
Dwayne gave out my number? I'll kill him.
"Look, I'm not calling to make you uncomfortable," Jamal continues. "I'm calling because I want to see you again."
"Jamal—"
"I know what happened tonight was complicated. The boyfriend thing. I'm not stupid, Anna. I saw through it."
My face burns. "Then why are you calling?"
"Because I'm interested in you." There's amusement in his voice. "Because your performance tonight was devastating and I want to know the person behind it."
I'm quiet, processing.
"Have dinner with me," he says. "No pressure. Just two people getting to know each other. If you want to explain why you lied, fine. If you want to talk about the play, fine."
"I can't," I say automatically. "I just—Mark is hurt because of me. Going to dinner with you would make it worse."
"Would it? Or would it make it honest?" His voice is direct. "You lied about having a boyfriend. That means you don't have a boyfriend. So have dinner with me. If nothing else, you owe me an explanation."
He has a point.
"One dinner," I hear myself say. "Just to explain."
"I'll take it." He sounds pleased. "Tomorrow night. I know a place. Quiet, private. Seven o'clock?"
"Tomorrow?" My mind spins. "That's—"
"Too fast?" There's challenge in his tone. "Anna, I just watched you perform a tragedy about a woman who destroys what she loves. I think we're past slow and careful."
He has a point there too.
"Okay. Tomorrow."
"I'll text you the address."
He hangs up before I can second-guess myself.
I stare at my phone, heart racing.
What did I just agree to?
Daisy's eyebrows are raised. "Was that who I think it was?"
"Jamal Santos just asked me to dinner tomorrow night."
"And you said yes?"
"I said yes." I run my hands through my hair. "I owe him an explanation for lying, right?"
"Anna." Daisy's voice is serious now. "Jamal Santos is an MMA champion. Famous. Public. If you're seen with him, it'll be headlines. Photos. Everyone will know."
"So?"
"So weeks ago you were crying over a man you can't have. Now you're going on a date with someone you just met." She pauses. "That's not moving on. That's running away."
"Maybe I need to run away."
"Maybe. But when the photos surface—and they will—James will see them." Her eyes are knowing. "Is that what you want? To hurt him? Or to make him jealous?"
I don't answer because I don't know.
What would James think if he knew? Would he care? He's marrying Elena. He made his choice.
Maybe it's time I make mine.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown Number: Salvatore's. 412 West Broadway. 7pm tomorrow. Don't overthink it. -J
I stare at the message.
Then I check my texts with Mark.
Still nothing since his last message about needing space.
"Be careful," Daisy says softly. "With your heart. With Mark's feelings. With everything."
"I will."
She heads to bed, leaving me alone in the living room.
Another notification. Social media. Someone tagged me in a photo from tonight—me on stage, mid-performance, looking ethereal and devastated.
Caption: "Rising star Anna Chen delivers career-making performance in Seline. #BlackboxTheater #TheaterWeekly"
Already 200 likes. 50 shares.
The internet is fast.
I turn off my phone before I can think about who might see it. Before I can wonder if James has seen it. Before I can care.
I touch the star necklace at my throat.
Tonight I proved I could be extraordinary without James.
Tonight I also destroyed my friendship with Mark.
I don't know if this is moving forward or running away.
Maybe it's both.
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