Alfred's voice echoed through the speaker, low and heavy.
"Splendour, are you avoiding me?"
She froze at his words. Her phone pressed to her ear, yet her mind was miles away somewhere between the sound of Kingsley's laughter and the memory of Alfred's promises.
"No… I'm just busy," she murmured.
He laughed softly, but it wasn't the same. "Busy? You never used to be too busy to talk to me. You don't even call anymore, Splendour. You don't text unless I text first. What's going on?"
Her chest tightened. "Nothing, Alfred. Please don't start."
"Don't start?" his tone deepened. "I'm just trying to understand what changed. Did I do something wrong?"
Tears filled her eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just…" She trailed off, staring at the wall, unable to finish.
There was silence on the other end, followed by a long sigh.
"I know when something's wrong. I can feel it. You don't even sound like my Splendour anymore."
She forced a laugh, but her heart ached. "You're overthinking again. I'm fine, Alfred."
"If you say so," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just don't forget who stayed when the world left."
When the call ended, Splendour sat still, clutching her phone. Guilt tore through her chest like fire. Kingsley's name flashed next on her screen — she wiped her tears quickly and smiled before answering.
"Hey, beautiful," Kingsley's warm voice came through. "You sound tired."
"I'm okay," she lied softly. "I just needed to hear your voice."
"Then I'll keep talking till you fall asleep," he said gently.
And he did — his laughter, his words, his care filling the quiet spaces Alfred once owned.
But as she drifted off that night, her heart whispered a truth she didn't want to face: you can't replace loyalty with comfort — not forever.