Goodbye Saintess (by Edelweiss W.S.) novel Chapter 19

Just as I was about to fall asleep, my phone buzzed. A call from an unknown number lit up the screen.

“Seriously? Who calls a stranger in the middle of the night?” I mumbled.

I frowned, hesitated, then picked up. The moment I said “Hello?“, a familiar voice broke through.

“Sebastian Grimwald, why did you block my number?! Sebastian, answer me!”

It was Hera. She was drunk. Her voice teetered between pitiful and accusatory, each slurred word laced with the kind of self- righteousness that made my skin crawl.

“What the hell?” I muttered to myself.

We’re getting divorced. Why would we need each other’s numbers?

“So yeah, I blocked you.”

My grip on the phone tightened as my mind flashed back to the video my old classmate had sent me earlier tonight. She’d been at a bar, and she was clearly drunk now.

But didn’t she have Edmund now? And Bobby? What the hell was she doing calling me at this hour? Didn’t she care if they saw? If they misunderstood?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped. “I don’t give you permission to block me. If anyone’s blocking someone, it’s me blocking you! Now take me off that stupid block list. Right now!”

Her whining curdled into fury. Classic Hera. She always needed to be in control.

“And why should I?” I questioned coldly. “I’m not your pet. You don’t get to bark orders at me anymore. If you don’t have anything important to say, don’t call me again. I’m going to sleep.”

I didn’t give her a single inch. My thumb hovered over the hang–up button, ready to end the whole thing.

That was the case until her tone changed. Maybe she finally realized I wasn’t the same man who used to orbit her every whim. Her voice softened, shifting from combative to pleading. “Wait, don’t hang up. Please… I’m drunk, Sebastian. Can you come get me? Take me home… please?”

“No. Goodnight.” I hung up without hesitation, scoffing under my breath.

There was no sadness. Just a hollow ache, like I was the only one stuck listening to the punchline of some cosmic joke.

I used to drop everything the moment she called. Every time she drank too much at some work dinner, I’d rush to the restaurant -rain or shine–just to pick her up. Even if it meant waiting outside in the cold all night like some fool, I’d show up with a jacket and hangover food in hand.

I still remembered those sleepless nights vividly. Her stomach would twist from the alcohol, and I’d sit by her side, watching her wince in pain and begging her to stop drinking.

She never listened. At first, she’d snap at me to shut up. Eventually, she just told me not to come at all.

She never understood how much it hurt, watching other men bring her home sloppy drunk while I stood by, powerless.

I kept lying to myself that it was fine. That they were just dropping her off. I was the one who took care of her after.

But one night, I suggested having a little wine together, just enough to set the mood. She shut me down on the spot. She had told me coldly that as an Awakenist, indulging in worldly pleasures was already a sin. Drinking beforehand? That was a sin

stacked on another sin.

She had said that if I didn’t want to follow the rules, I could get off the damn bed. She had even demanded to never ask for

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something so unholy again.

I still remember the way those words sliced through me. It was like they’d been carved into the bone.

And now she had the nerve to call me in the middle of the night, begging me to pick her up? Give me a break.

I tossed the phone aside and turned off the light, finally ready to sleep.

But it kept ringing nonstop as if she was trying to call me into submission.

And honestly? Even I was a little surprised.

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