The pressure to find the perfect outfit didn't explode overnight. For months, family and friends hounded Frieda to at least begin the search. Avoiding constant reminders and requests for progress pushed her further into despair. The solution was simple enough. The underlying obstacle; not so much, coupled with the peculiar actions of her finance, Jopher.

Only one important item remained on the agenda: And it wasn't the color of the engagement dress.

Discover the name of the caller who wouldn't leave a message on her answering machine. Over the past six months, a male voice tormented her.

More than a hundred times muffled voices in the background on the other end of the phone left a huge lump in Frieda's throat and struck terror in her heart. Tears welled up each time as her she froze whenever the phone rang. The walls of her empty apartment heard her anguish as desperate pleas for the caller to identify himself filled the room.

The caller ID displayed "Unavailable". Listening to the dial tone on the return calls she attempted to connect with frustrated her.

"Just a prank caller," Jopher would offer an an explanation. He shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands. "You're too sensitive!" he persisted.

"Prank! For over six month!" Frieda yelled, visibly trembling. She grabbed her hair, pulling it in all directions. She continued in a high-pitched, crackling voice, "It's gone far beyond a prank. I'm getting the police involved." Those last words evoked the calm she needed. However, it was Jopher's support she craved.

His support he held back as she watched him quickly retreat, eyes wide, veins raised on his neck, with a horrified expression before he hurriedly turned away. The look scared her more than the nuisance caller.

Immediately after that conversation, the calls ceased.

Yet Frieda didn't connect the two. So she set up a doctor's visit. He recommended a therapist. A calmer self emerged with the medications prescribed by her therapist as a sleep and relaxation aid to the point that she discontinued her treatments, feeling well enough to handle life going forward.

All this accomplished without involving her family. Ecstatic they were that the engagement and wedding would move forward. She didn't blame them. They'd suffered enough through the years dealing with her non-physical ailments that spilled over into her physical pain. More than one phobia dealt her a debilitating blow well into her adulthood.

But life moves forward whether you're capable of dealing with it, she reasoned.

With the engagement party and wedding behind her no excesse drama during each event, she and Jopher settled into married life.

Seven months later before Jopher arrived home one night, the telephone rang. Frieda answered cheerfully without hesitation.

No response. Heavy breathing ensued. She froze.

Once she recovered, she hung up. Immediately, another unrecognizable call. She didn't intend to, but answered quickly. This time, the caller requested to speak with Jopher.

Her instincts warned her not to divulge any information, so she slammed the phone down onto its cradle.

What game is this? she questioned as suspicions turned to her husband. Panicked thoughts raced through her mind as she rocked back and forth alternating with her hands clutching her shoulders, then face. The sensation she hadn't felt in over ten years rose up steadily, then latched onto the gremlins that crawled up her spine.

During the week, Frieda prayed the recent event wasn't connected to Jopher. She confronted him. He denied all, accusing her of becoming unhinged.

The next day he took action.

"I'm Jopher Stevens. What are the procedures for obtaining an evaluation for someone," he asked of the receptionist. After obtaining the information, he smiled, pleased with his decision. Aching to confide in Waylon, they met.

Waylon sat at the restaurant's bar waiting on Jopher. Searching his phone, he deleted the photos his best friend had forwarded to him of his wedding and honeymoon, keeping only those of him and Jopher.

"Why? Waylon," after he finished explaining the situation. "What has Frieda or I ever done but be the best of friends?"

Waylon stared at Jopher with venomous eyes. "You could have chosen a saner mate. Sooner or later you'll be saddled with an invalid pouring out an exorbitant amount of funds once she's committed to an asylum. Where will that leave us following the racing tour?"

Silence fell between them as Waylon glanced into the distance. He wouldn't listen and had already decided to distance himself, committing not to supporting their relationship. He rose, almost toppling his chair. The table accepted his disheveled napkin, then left. Jopher watched as he disappeared into the night.

Frieda longed for her own confidant. A large family, she'd grown distant in recent years. But she reached out to Annette, her younger sister. Responding instantly, Annette sat across from her living room couch. "What's the latest drama you've concocted?"

Ignoring the jab, Frieda immediately sensed she'd made a mistake.

Annette looked sympathetic, but her next words stung. "You're crazy as a bat, if you ask me."

With that, she left Frieda no closer to solving her present dilemma.

On her way home, Annette rolled her eyes as she listened. Finally, she interrupted. "I had not way of knowing we'd all get rugged. That coin's price is worthless, and the owner disappeared. I've got my own problems."

"Your problems mean nothing. Repay me, and we're good. If not, remember, Frieda dying or committed before she has children will cause the estate to revert to her siblings. The payoff is worth the wait."

A few days later, one evening a knock at the door startled her. Not expecting company, she viewed the peephole. No one. Turning away, the bell continued ringing. With her hands pressed against the door, she slid to the floor until her head hung between her knees.

Too overwhelmed with fear to move, she felt imprisoned. She screamed, "I just want to be left alone!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. The clock gave comfort.

Another two hours, and Jopher would be home.

She didn't confide in him. Instead, she sensed a hardening toward her, so she opted for an evening walk in the brisk air to clear her head.

From out of nowhere, a hooded man walked briskly until he caught up with her. He provided Frieda no time to access the situation because a sudden stab of fear assaulted her when she turned and noticed him remove a weapon from his jacket.

She jerked a sharp breath as Annette raced toward her waiving hands high in the air. No longer able to see anything but the perceived threat from her, Frieda screamed.

The bullet arrived too fast for Annette to think. Instinctively, she pushed Frieda, who hugged her as they both tumbled backward in a flurry of activity. Frieda screamed relentlessly as her hands felt wet. What she did hear was Annette whisper, "Waylon."

Several days later, Frieda woke in the hospital. Both Jopher and the police were present.

"Can you fill in some information? Jopher arrived after your sister was killed. Apparently, Annette alerted the authorities," the officer shared.

Frieda nodded. "Please tell me the reasons the persons close to us would inflict this harm?"

"Annette coveted your inheritance. Waylon coveted your husband. Simple as that. Classic reasons, but people do much worse for less." Waylon confessed. He could have blamed Annette entirely, but he offered what he believed was the truth."

The officer told how Waylon met Annette at their wedding. She rambled about your parents ignoring her emotional needs, opting instead to concentrate on yours. She had issues also. She railed at them leaving you the family's estate. There was no way she could repay the money she owed. Ending it was her way out. I don't believe she wanted you dead, just committed. Jopher was stalling. She was concerned you'd become pregnant first. Annette hired the caller only to frighten. Waylon hired the hitman to kill. Their scheme almost worked.

"I was only trying to be transparent and upfront with my fiance. I divulged my trust inheritance. A modest amount, but if managed prudently, I wouldn't require full-time work and pursue my dream as a free-lance photographer. I had no idea he'd share my personal information with Waylon."

Jopher heaved a sigh of relief. "I wasn't the man you deserved. I doubted you. Never again, and I won't add to your anxiety when I'm traveling."

Relieved she wasn't relapsing, Frieda proposed they move away if his job permitted. Jopher agreed. A fresh start.