The apartment felt too quiet without him. Not just quiet; hollow, like the silence itself was a reminder of what hadn't been said.
Anya sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly together, her knuckles pale. Her chest hurt, but it wasn't the sharp kind of pain that came with crying. It was dull. Heavy. A stone sitting where her heart should be.
She whispered to herself, because sometimes words made the emptiness less unbearable. "Why couldn't you just… reach for me?"
The room didn't answer. It hadn't for the last two days.
She thought of his back turned to her in bed. The space between them that once was heat and touch and comfort, now a wall she didn't know how to climb. She thought of the way he had looked at her this morning, with eyes full of everything but words. Apology. Regret. Longing. None of it spoken.
She rubbed at her arms, almost like she could still feel the weight of his absence.
"Maybe I expected too much," she murmured. "Maybe it's me."
But deep down she knew it wasn't. Not this time. She hadn't been asking for grand declarations, for proof or promises. All she had wanted was his hand, steady on hers. His voice, soft, telling her she wasn't alone when Maddy walked in like a storm.
And he hadn't given her that.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She looked at it instinctively, half-expecting his name. But it wasn't him. Just a group notification.
Her shoulders sank.
She rose, moved through the apartment, tidying things pointlessly again. She packed a small overnight bag because she couldn't stand the thought of staying here another night alone. She would go back to her place. It wasn't as nice, wasn't as warm, but it was hers. It didn't echo with memories she didn't know how to hold.
His words replayed in her mind as she zipped the bag."Move in here. You won't have to pay rent. No one stays here anyway."
At first, she'd wanted to say yes. Wanted to say she would, because being close to him was all she had wanted from the beginning. But something in her chest had screamed no. Because if she moved here, what then? What if he stayed distant, stayed silent? What if she became a guest in her own life, waiting for him to return from the chaos of his family's decisions?
"No," she had told him quietly, firmly. "I'll stay in my place."
She wondered if he'd taken it as rejection. Or if he even cared.
Sinking into the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, she whispered again, as if he were still there to hear:"Why didn't you fight for me?"
The question hung unanswered, just like all the others.
.....
The train ride back felt longer than it should have. Elias sat by the window, his head resting against the cool glass, but his mind refused to rest.
He replayed every moment of the last two days, every silence, every glance they hadn't held long enough.
"She's broken because of me," he muttered under his breath. The words barely formed, but they cut him deeper than anything his father could ever say.
He clenched his jaw. He wasn't the kind of man to shut down. At least, not before Anya. With her, he had always been different. Open. Alive. She had drawn out parts of him he didn't even know existed, laughter that came too easily, touches that felt like breathing.
But when Maddy showed up, all of that had collapsed under the weight of expectation. Family politics. Old ties. The version of himself his father wanted him to be.
And he had let Anya see him crumble.
He rubbed at his temple, muttering to himself."You should have told her. You should have said it wasn't what she thought."
The silence on the other side of the bed haunted him. The way Anya had curled into herself, making herself small, like she was bracing for hurt. That image was burned into him.
"Idiot," he whispered harshly. "You let her think she's alone in this."
The train rocked, and he straightened, gripping the armrest.
He wanted to call her. Right then. Wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he hadn't chosen silence because he didn't care but because he cared too much. That he hadn't known what to do when his world collided with hers so violently.
But his phone stayed on the seat beside him, face down. Because what if she didn't answer? What if his silence had already spoken louder than any apology ever could?
He closed his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping. "You've fought harder for things that never mattered. And now, when it does… you choke."
.....
The familiar gate loomed as the taxi pulled into the driveway. His house. His family's house. It was supposed to feel like home. Instead, his chest tightened the moment he saw the black car already parked outside.
Not his mother's. Not his brother's.
His father's.
Elias froze, his hand still on the car door handle. For a moment, he considered telling the driver to turn around, to take him anywhere else. But the driver was already unloading his bag, and the weight of inevitability pressed on his shoulders.
He paid quickly, grabbed the suitcase, and walked up the steps.
The door was unlocked. That alone told him enough. His father was waiting.
The living room light was on, warm but suffocating. And there he was, seated neatly on the couch, posture straight, a glass of whiskey in hand.
"Elias," his father said, his tone even but sharp, like a blade hidden under silk. "Finally home."
Elias dropped his suitcase by the wall, his jaw tightening. "Didn't know you'd be here."
"I gathered as much." His father swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "If you had, you might not have come back at all."
Elias didn't answer. His silence was answer enough.
His father's eyes, cold and assessing, fixed on him. "We need to talk. About Maddy. About your… choices."
Elias' fists curled at his sides, his heartbeat quickening.
Not now. Not after everything. Not when Anya's tears were still fresh in his mind.
But he knew there was no escape. Not tonight.
The tension settled heavy in the room, like a storm waiting to break.