Elena had always believed that silence could speak louder than words. So that morning, she put it to the test.
Adrian leaned in to kiss her goodbye, his lips brushing hers lightly. Once, she would have returned it, soft and eager. But now, she let the moment pass coldly, her eyes opening before his could close. His brow furrowed at her stillness.
You okay? he asked with smile wavering.
Yes I'm fine, she said. Slipping past him with her voice smooth and detached.
You know, just tired with all the stress and the rest.
It wasn't a lie. She was tired, like tired of playing the fool. But more than that, she was ready. Ready to hear a confession which seems so hard and unbelievable.
Adrian left in a rush, unsettled by her distance. Elena sat at the kitchen table, her tea untouched, watching the steam curl and vanish into the air. Ashes of desire, that's what their love had become. Something once burning bright, now cooled, fragile and waiting to scatter.
That evening, she tested Maya.
Hey Maya, Elena said, holding up the lipstick tube she had found earlier.
Do you like this shade?
I've been thinking about trying something bolder.
The color was almost identical to the smudge she'd seen on Adrian's collar.
Maya froze for half a heartbeat too long. Then she forced a laugh, her fingers nervously twisting the bracelet on her wrist.
Oh, no, that's not really me. I stick to neutrals, you know that.
Elena smiled faintly, but her eyes stayed sharp. Mm. I suppose you're right.
The trap wasn't about the lipstick. It was about the reaction. And Maya's reaction told her more than words ever could.
Later, when Daniel joined her for coffee, Elena didn't mention lipstick or perfume or distance. Instead, she spoke of weight.
Do you ever feel like people carry secrets so heavy, it bends the air around them? she asked, stirring her cup slowly.
Daniel looked at her, his quiet gaze thoughtful. Yes. And usually, those secrets don't stay hidden for long.
She wanted to press him, to ask what he saw in her eyes. But she didn't. Not yet.
Instead, Elena leaned back and whispered, almost to herself, "I think mine are close to the surface."
Daniel didn't answer, but the soft clink of his cup on the saucer was steady, grounding. A voice of reason in her storm.
That night, Elena studied Adrian as he slept. His arm draped over her, heavy, possessive. She turned her head and stared at the faint outline of lipstick still stubborn on his shirt collar, though he thought he'd cleaned it. She traced it with her eyes until it blurred.
The ashes of her desire had cooled, yes. But beneath them, something else smoldered. Not love. Not yet rage.
But something in between. A fire waiting to catch.