unspoken echoes
1034 Words
CHAPTER 3 UNSPOKEN ECHOES
Later that evening, the boutique had quieted. The last customer left just before sunset, and Samantha finally pulled the sign on the door to Closed. Aunt Carrie had gone upstairs to start on dinner, while Uncle Mark disappeared to the storeroom to fix the leaky faucet he’d been “almost done with” since last week.
Samantha stayed behind to tidy up the front desk.
Her thoughts, however, hadn’t left the man who had walked in just hours earlier.
Alexander Multimon.
Even his name felt like something from another world. Not just because of the way he looked or dressed, but the way he spoke — direct, unbothered, like people moved when he spoke. Like the world bent slightly to his will.
She hated that he left an impression.
He probably doesn’t even remember me, she thought, brushing her fingers lightly across the register.
She had met wealthy clients before — designers, politicians, once even an actress’s assistant — but there was something about him that didn’t feel loud or boastful. It was quieter, more dangerous. Cold. Sharp.
“Earth to Sam,” a voice teased gently.
She blinked and looked up.
Kemi stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest and a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. She must’ve come in through the back.
“You’re zoning out. That’s not like you,” Kemi said, walking in. “Spill. What happened?”
Samantha tried to play it off. “Nothing. Just a customer.”
“A customer?” Kemi repeated, giving her a look. “You don’t space out over just any customer.”
Samantha stayed silent.
Kemi leaned closer, eyes wide. “Was he cute?”
“No,” Samantha said quickly. Then, after a second, “Well… not in a boy-next-door kind of way. More like… intimidating.”
“Ooh, even better.” Kemi leaned against the counter. “So what’s his name? Or did he just swoop in mysteriously, sweep you off your feet, and vanish?”
Samantha snorted. “He didn’t even say ‘please.’ He just handed me a card. Said he needed a shirt.”
“Rude.”
“Cold.”
“And yet… you’re still thinking about him.”
“I am not—” Samantha began, but Kemi just raised her eyebrows and smiled.
Outside, the sky darkened to navy, stars beginning to peek out through the evening haze.
[Scene switch — Alexander’s penthouse]
Far from the warmth of the boutique, in a glass-walled penthouse overlooking the city, Alexander sat in silence.
His team had left hours ago after a tense meeting, and the floor was quiet now, except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan above him.
He sat at the edge of the long, sleek couch, a glass of untouched scotch in his hand, staring at nothing in particular.
He had forgotten meetings before. Rarely. But never like this — not because his mind wandered, not because of a girl with soft eyes and nothing to say.
It was unsettling.
Unacceptable.
He glanced at the folded receipt on the table beside him. Her name was printed neatly at the bottom.
Samantha Hart.
He didn’t know why he kept it.
The kitchen was filled with the soothing rhythm of home — the bubbling of stew on the stove, the gentle clink of dishes being set, and the soft hum of a familiar song playing from the old radio on the counter. The scent of rosemary and garlic danced in the air, mingling with warmth and memory.
Samantha stood at the sink rinsing vegetables, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her thoughts, however, were still tangled in the encounter from the boutique. That man — tall, commanding, with a voice like ice and presence that filled every inch of the room — had unsettled something in her. Not fear, not exactly. But something. She’d replayed his sharp tone, the way his eyes had flicked over her, lingering just a second too long. Cold as he was, there was something behind that gaze — something she couldn’t name.
Aunt Carrie moved about the kitchen with her usual quiet grace, stirring the pot and tasting with practiced ease.
“Can you check if the bread’s ready?” she asked without turning.
Samantha nodded, slipping on an oven mitt and pulling out a small tray of golden-brown rolls. She placed them on the table just as the front door clicked open.
Kade’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Evening!”
“In here!” Aunt Carrie called in to notify her son .
Kade walked in, backpack slung over one shoulder, still in his work uniform — a navy shirt embroidered with the name of the local tech repair shop. His hair was tousled, and his smile was quick.
“I’m starving,” he said, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the fridge.
Uncle Mark followed close behind, loosening his tie and placing his car keys in the bowl by the door. “Busy day?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“You have no idea,” Kade replied, grabbing a bottle of water and flopping into a chair.
They all gathered at the table, a familiar rhythm falling into place — laughter in between mouthfuls, casual talk about work and customers, a brief debate about which song was playing on the radio. Samantha listened, occasionally joining in, but her thoughts kept drifting.
Uncle Mark noticed. “You alright, Sam?”
She blinked, then smiled softly. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Aunt Carrie’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, but she didn’t press. The family finished dinner as the last light of day slipped behind the trees outside. The house settled into a calm, nighttime hush.
Samantha cleared the dishes and helped her aunt wipe down the table. As she made her way to her room, she paused in the hallway, her fingers grazing the frame of another photograph — this one of all four of them, taken at the boutique’s ten-year anniversary. A life stitched together with quiet strength and shared losses.
She sighed gently, then slipped inside her room and closed the door.
- Writer
