Five minutes, I waited.
But he didn't call back. I had been so sure that he would, at least to assert his authority and privilege, but as much as I stared at the dark screen of my phone lying on the worn drawer beside my bed, the screen never waked.
I even took my phone to the bathroom and yet after a long shower, he still hadn't called. I didn't know why I had been kinda desperate for him to call, but it was better than the silence. The Richard Wellington I knew, would never have let that slide. He freaks out when I interrupt him, talk more of cutting a phone call when he still had more to say.
As sleep enveloped me, I couldn't shake off the feeling that whatever made him not call back, that, I should be afraid of. Because surely he was already plotting something and if that was enough for him not to call back, then I'm toast.
