Silence is supposed to be peaceful.
But the silence between Edward and me is not peace.
It's punishment.
It's a knife.
It's the echo of everything I'm trying so desperately to kill inside myself.
Since the day everything fell apart, my phone has become a weapon I'm terrified to touch.
Every time it vibrates, my stomach drops.
Every time it lights up, my heart stutters painfully.
Every time I see his name, something inside me breaks a little more.
And yet… I still don't block him.
Why?
I don't know.
Or maybe I do, and I'm just afraid to admit it.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, wrapped in a blanket I don't remember pulling over myself. Days blur together. It's been… I don't know how long.
Three days? Four?
Time moves strangely when you're trying to forget someone who feels unforgettable.
My phone buzzes again.
I flinch like I've been slapped, even though I already know who it is.
I don't look at it.
I can't.
A few seconds later another buzz.
Then another.
Finally, the phone goes silent.
I exhale, long and shaky, then bury my face in my hands.
Why does it hurt like this?
Why does my chest ache every time his name flashes on the screen?
Why does ignoring him feel like tearing off a piece of myself each time?
I'm the one who said it was over.
I'm the one who ran.
I'm the one who slammed the door and hid from him like a coward.
I should feel relieved.
I don't.
I feel like I'm suffocating.
I force myself to get up and walk to the kitchen, just so I'm not lying down like a heartbreak ghost anymore. I pour tea I won't drink, stand by the counter, and try to exist.
The doorbell rings.
My breath catches in my throat.
Once.
Twice.
Three soft chimes.
He's here again.
Of course he is.
And like always I freeze.
My muscles lock.
My heart races.
My feet refuse to move.
I don't breathe until the doorbell stops.
Then comes the knock.
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Not angry.
Just… pleading.
Soft.
Hopeful.
Painfully gentle.
"Leah… please."
His voice is muffled through the door, but the emotion in it is unmistakable. Heavy. Tired. Strained.
It hits me like a physical blow.
I grip the edge of the countertop so hard my knuckles go white.
Why is he doing this?
Why won't he give up?
Why won't he leave me alone so I can heal?
Or…
Why won't he leave me alone because he doesn't want to?
The knocking stops.
Silence.
Long, thick, suffocating silence.
I wait barely breathing until I hear the faint sound of footsteps retreating.
Only then do I let out the breath I'm holding.
I walk to the living room and peek through the blinds.
I see nothing but an empty walkway and the echo of everything I'm pushing away.
He's gone.
For now.
My phone lights up on the couch.
I move toward it slowly, like approaching something dangerous.
Three missed calls.
Four messages.
I shouldn't read them.
But I do.
EDWARD: Leah, please talk to me.
EDWARD: I can't sleep. I can't think. I need to see you.
EDWARD: I didn't know. You have to believe that.
And then the last one, sent just minutes ago:
EDWARD: I'll wait as long as you need. Just don't disappear.
My throat tightens painfully.
I press the phone face-down on the table, but the words stay in my chest, burning.
What am I supposed to do with this?
I sink onto the couch, burying my face in a pillow to muffle the scream building inside me. The pain of wanting someone I shouldn't want it's like being torn apart.
After a while, I get up and go to the bathroom again. Not because I need to, but because I can't sit still. I splash water on my face, stare at my reflection.
I look exhausted.
There are faint shadows under my eyes.
My lips tremble even when I'm not speaking.
My entire body feels like it's carrying a storm.
I turn away from the mirror, refusing to look at myself anymore.
Back in the bedroom, I sit on the floor my new habit, apparently hugging my knees like I'm bracing for something.
The phone buzzes.
Again.
I close my eyes. "Please stop," I whisper.
But he doesn't.
He keeps calling.
My fingers dig into my arms as I fight the instinct to answer. My heart is screaming at me to pick up the phone, to hear his voice, to let him explain.
My head is screaming at me not to be stupid.
The phone stops ringing.
Then lights up again with a voice note.
I stare at it.
I shouldn't listen.
I really shouldn't.
But something inside me cracks. I pick up the phone with trembling hands and press play before I can stop myself.
His voice comes through low, rough, almost broken.
"Leah… I don't know what else to do. I feel like I'm losing you, and I don't even understand why. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. If I had known…"
He pauses. Breathes shakily.
"If I had known, I still don't think I could've stayed away from you."
My breath stutters.
"Just tell me you're okay. That's all I need right now. Please."
The message ends.
I sit there in complete silence, my heart pounding so fast it hurts.
My eyes burn with tears, but I force them back.
I will not cry for him again.
I stand and put the phone facedown on the dresser, far away from me, like distance will protect me from myself.
Then I do the only thing I can think of.
I switch it off.
The silence that follows is so thick it feels alive.
But at least it's silence I chose.
Even though it breaks me.
Even though I know it's breaking him too.
I crawl into bed, hugging myself tightly. The room feels too big. Too empty. Too quiet.
I turn my face into the pillow and breathe shakily.
"Don't think about him," I whisper.
But I do.
I think about his voice.
His eyes.
His touch.
His body over mine.
His hands gripping my waist.
His mouth on my skin.
His breath in my ear.
I think about how he said he'd wait.
I think about how much it hurts to push him away.
And the awful truth?
The silence that's supposed to protect me…
…is destroying me instead.