I Never Deleted My Late Daughter’s Number—Then It Called Me in the Middle of the Night

number!”

She swallowed, a visible, painful gulp. “No,” she whispered, her voice barely a thread. “That’s not my number.”

I blinked, my mind reeling. “What are you talking about? I’ve had that number saved as yours for years.”

She pointed to the screen, her finger trembling so violently it blurred against the glass. “Dad… that’s Helen’s phone number.”