The last call of hope.

"Should I text her? Or should I call her?" He asked himself his thumb still dancing in confusion.

After thinking for whole 10 minutes he finally decided to give her a call. "You can do it Alex Johnson." The boy patted his chest.

The call went through and so his heart beating at it's most speed. "Calm down brother.. I don't wanna die before talking to her." He calmed his heart, taking deep breathes.

The ring could be heard which to him were like till eternity. He impatiently tapped his leg on the carpet. But nobody picked up the call. He again dialled her number but still nobody answered. He dialled her atleast 20 times but still there was no answer from the other line.

"Is she that angry with me?" He asked himself. "Ofcourse idiot it's been soo many days... You first called her then slept without even talking much and didn't even care to atleast text her, you deserve this." He said angrily, yes he was angry at himself.

He kept blaming himself for being this careless. He gave the last call of hope. But as usual this also went unanswered. Looking sadly at his phone he reluctantly kept his phone aside dozing off to sleep.

Meanwhile,

Mia who was unknown of the ruckus Alex was making in his head was fast asleep drooling heavily. She was hell tired due to the completion and submission work. Keeping her phone on silent mode so that nobody disturbs her 'Foodfull dream' , yes that's what she called them as the other day was Saturday.

Her phone kept flashing again and again, but who can wake up Mia the Sleepy Jones from her sleep.

It was 12 in the afternoon when Mia woke up rubbing her eyes. Wiping her drool with her sleeves she got down the bed. Walking clumsily towards the bathroom.

Johnson Headquarters.

Alex was sitting with a weird mixture of expressions on his face. Mixture of frustration, irritation, guilt, and God knows what else..

Peter entered his office with an invitation card in his hand along with some files. He halted looking at Alex who seemed like he hadn't had good sleep last night. His shirt's upper buttons were open. He looked the opposite of The Alex Johnson.

"Are you sick?" Peter asked him putting the files on his table.

"Do I look sick?" He asked back in an irritated tone.

"Ahem.... Well yes you do look sick." Peter replied clearing his throat.