The phone was dying.
Daniel realized it with a jolt as he plugged it in that night, the battery icon stubbornly red despite hours of charging. Old. Overused. Like him.
Panic clawed up his throat.
He scrambled for his laptop, fingers fumbling as he searched how to save voicemails. There were apps, methods, convoluted instructions—but all of them required time he wasn't sure he had.
"Shit," he muttered, pressing play on the last message again, as if memorizing the cadence of her voice could somehow preserve it.
"Hey, it's me—"
The door creaked open. Luke hovered in the doorway, a bag of chips in hand. "You okay?"
Daniel didn't look up. "Phone's dying."
Luke took a seat beside him on the couch, crunching obnoxiously. "So get a new one."
"It's not—" Daniel cut himself off, gripping the phone tighter. "The voicemails. They're on here. Only on here."
Luke stilled. Understanding flickered across his face.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone. "Here."
Daniel blinked. "What?"
"Play it." Luke held his phone closer. "I'll record it."
It was such a simple solution. So obvious. Daniel felt stupid for not thinking of it himself.
He hit play.
"Hey, it's me. Just checking in. Don't forget to eat something today, okay? Love you."
Luke's recording app captured every word. Every pause. The way she'd laughed softly at the end, like she'd been embarrassed to leave something so sentimental.
When it was done, Luke saved the file and emailed it to him. "There," he said, as if he hadn't just handed Daniel a lifeline. "Now it won't fade."
Daniel exhaled. "Thanks."
Luke shrugged, stuffing another chip in his mouth. "Whatever."
But his fingers lingered on his own phone for a moment longer—like maybe, just maybe, he'd saved the file for himself too.