Maya had always been a quiet person. Not by choice, but because it felt safer. The world outside seemed to speak in loud, overwhelming colors—emotions, expectations, judgments. Her own voice, however, was soft and hidden, like a whispered secret in a crowded room.
She had learned long ago that silence could shield her. But it also kept her isolated.
It wasn't that she didn't want to be seen. In fact, some days, she longed for it. Longed for someone to notice the weight she carried, the quiet battles she fought behind her calm exterior. But the more she hid in plain sight, the harder it became to find her way out.
It was a Tuesday, like every other day, when she passed the coffee machine and realized, yet again, that she'd forgotten to pour herself a cup.
Maya stopped at her desk and stared at the screen, but the words didn't make sense. She glanced at the clock, heart sinking as she saw the minutes slipping away, and once again, she was running behind.
Her mind raced, trying to catch up with her own schedule. She had to do this. She had to push through the fog.
---
It was on that same Tuesday that Aaron, the quiet guy from IT who always seemed to hover near the edges of her world, stopped by her desk. She hadn't noticed him walking up until he cleared his throat.
"Hey, Maya," he said softly, offering her a coffee cup. "Figured you might need this."
She blinked, stunned.
"How did you know…?" she started, but the words felt awkward on her tongue.
"You don't look like you've had a break," he smiled. "Plus, I noticed you always drink it black."
She took the cup, her fingers brushing his briefly. His presence was easy to ignore, but there was something about him—a quiet understanding. A stillness that mirrored her own.
"Thanks," she said, not sure what else to add.
Aaron nodded, as though nothing needed to be said. He was the kind of person who didn't ask questions, didn't push—he just was, in the same way she existed at the edges, unnoticed but quietly present.
---
Later that night, Maya found herself staring at the blank page of her sketchbook, her hand hovering over it like she was afraid of what might spill out.
Her art had always been her secret, her escape from a world that felt too noisy. But she hadn't drawn in months. Maybe years.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Her sister, Olivia, popped her head in. "Hey, I'm making dinner. You want something to eat?"
Maya shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the page.
"I'm fine. Just… thinking."
Olivia studied her for a moment, sensing the heaviness Maya didn't say aloud. "You know, you don't have to keep carrying it all by yourself," she said softly before leaving, the door clicking shut behind her.
Maya felt a pang in her chest. It wasn't the first time Olivia had said something like that—but it always felt like a distant dream, a hope that was too far to reach.
---
The following morning, Maya found herself at the office again, buried in paperwork, and yet… something had shifted inside her. Something she couldn't name.
She glanced at the coffee cup Aaron had left her the day before, its warmth lingering in her memory. It was a simple gesture, but for the first time in a long time, it felt like she wasn't invisible. Like maybe, just maybe, there was someone who could see her—not just the quiet worker or the tired sister, but the real her, hiding beneath layers of silence and unspoken fears.