Elevator silence
2023 Words
My first official workday felt weirdly quiet.
Not normal quiet.
The uncomfortable kind.
The kind that makes you overthink everything.
Especially when the person who talked softly to you at 12:47 AM suddenly acted like you barely existed in daylight.
I sat at my new desk pretending to understand the seventy-three tabs open on my computer screen.
None of them made sense anymore.
Not because the work was hard.
Because Nathan Vale had walked past my desk four times already without looking at me once.
Which was ridiculous.
Why did that bother me?
He was my CEO.
Not my friend.
Definitely not my emotionally confusing midnight caller.
Still…
the contrast hurt more than I expected.
“Elena uses color-coded schedules because she hates happiness,” Vincent informed me casually while dropping into the empty chair beside my desk.
He stole one of my sticky notes immediately.
“Don’t tell her I said that.”
“I can literally hear you,” Elena replied calmly from across the office.
Vincent didn’t even blink.
“She hears everything. It’s deeply unsettling.”
Elena finally looked up from her tablet.
Perfect posture.
Perfect makeup.
Perfect calm expression.
Honestly terrifying.
“You filed the Morrison documents incorrectly,” she told me gently.
My stomach dropped.
“Oh my God. I did?”
“No.”
I blinked.
“…What?”
A tiny pause.
Then—
“I wanted to see how you react under pressure.”
Vincent pointed dramatically.
“See? Evil.”
Elena ignored him completely.
“You panic honestly,” she said to me.
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”
“It isn’t.”
I stared at her.
Vincent leaned closer.
“She likes you.”
“She threatened me emotionally ten seconds ago.”
“That’s how Elena bonds.”
“I’m still here,” Elena said flatly.
The office suddenly shifted quieter.
Small changes.
Employees sitting straighter.
Conversations lowering.
The kind of reaction people had around storms.
Nathan walked out of his office while adjusting the sleeve of his black shirt.
No tie today.
Just rolled sleeves and exhaustion.
Which somehow looked unfairly attractive.
My eyes betrayed me immediately.
God.
This man really did look different during the day.
At night his voice felt lonely.
Soft around the edges.
Like someone sitting alone in darkness trying not to drown in silence.
But here?
Everything about him looked controlled.
Sharp.
Untouchable.
Nathan spoke briefly to another executive near the conference room.
His expression never changed.
Neither did his tone.
“No. Fix it before tomorrow.”
The poor man nodded like his survival depended on it.
Vincent sighed dramatically beside me.
“You know, one day he’s going to accidentally smile and this company will collapse from shock.”
And somehow—
before I could stop myself—
I smiled.
Nathan looked over instantly.
Not at Vincent.
At me.
My breath caught stupidly fast.
His eyes stayed on my face for one quiet second.
Then he looked away first.
Again.
Weirdly…
that affected me more than it should have.
The rest of the morning dragged slowly.
Emails.
Coffee.
Schedules.
Pretending my heartbeat acted normal whenever Nathan walked nearby.
Spoiler:
it did not.
Around noon, Elena handed me a thin folder.
“Take this to accounting on the thirty-first floor.”
I nodded quickly.
“Okay.”
Then quieter—
“Am I doing alright?”
Elena studied me for a second.
“You ask that every hour with your face.”
“…Oh.”
“You’re doing fine.”
Relief hit me embarrassingly fast.
Vincent suddenly appeared behind us holding iced coffee.
“Congratulations. Elena just gave you emotional validation. That only happens twice a year.”
“She asked.”
“You once told me ‘adequate effort’ after I worked forty hours straight.”
“That was emotional validation.”
I laughed softly before standing.
“I’ll take the folder.”
The elevator downstairs was thankfully empty.
For once.
I stepped inside while exhaling slowly.
Quiet at last.
The mirrored walls reflected my tired face immediately.
Fantastic.
I looked stressed.
Emotionally unemployed.
Slightly haunted.
The elevator doors started closing.
Then stopped suddenly.
A hand appeared between them.
And my stomach immediately tightened.
Nathan stepped inside calmly.
Of course he did.
The doors shut behind him softly.
And suddenly the elevator felt ten times smaller.
Too close.
Too quiet.
Nathan stood beside me without speaking.
Close enough for me to notice details I absolutely should not be noticing.
The silver watch against his wrist.
The faint crease between his brows.
The tiredness beneath his eyes.
Even his cologne.
Clean.
Dark.
Dangerously distracting.
I stared very hard at the glowing floor numbers.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-four.
Twenty-five.
Silence stretched between us.
Heavy.
Not awkward exactly.
Just aware.
Painfully aware.
I became hyperaware of my breathing.
My posture.
My hands.
Everything suddenly felt too loud.
Nathan finally spoke quietly.
“You’re quieter during the day.”
My heart nearly stopped.
I looked at him too quickly.
His expression stayed calm.
Unreadable.
But his eyes were on me now.
“What?” I asked softly.
“You talk more at night.”
There it was.
Direct confirmation.
Clear.
Simple.
And somehow my brain still struggled processing it.
I swallowed hard.
“So it really is you.”
Nathan leaned slightly against the elevator wall.
“Hm.”
That stupid little sound again.
Soft.
Low.
Exactly like the calls.
My chest tightened immediately.
“You act different here,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
Nathan’s gaze stayed on mine.
“Different how?”
I hesitated.
Because saying softer out loud suddenly felt dangerous.
“At night you sound…”
I stopped.
Nathan waited patiently.
Which somehow made it worse.
“…less terrifying,” I finished weakly.
To my horror—
something almost flickered in his expression.
Not a smile.
Worse.
Amusement.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
“You disagree?”
“I think you’re more honest at night.”
The elevator suddenly felt warmer.
I frowned slightly.
“What does that mean?”
“At night,” Nathan said quietly, “you stop pretending not to feel things.”
That landed somewhere deep inside me.
Somewhere uncomfortable.
I looked away first.
Because eye contact with this man felt medically unsafe.
The elevator hummed softly upward.
Twenty-eight.
Twenty-nine.
“You ignore me during the day,” I said before my common sense could save me.
Silence.
Then Nathan answered calmly,
“I’m your employer during the day.”
“And at night?”
The question slipped out too fast.
Nathan looked at me carefully.
Too carefully.
Before he could answer—
the elevator jerked violently.
A startled breath escaped me as the floor shifted beneath us.
I lost balance instantly.
Nathan caught my arm automatically.
Warm fingers wrapping around my wrist.
Everything inside me froze.
The world suddenly narrowed into one impossible detail:
his hand touching mine.
Firm.
Steady.
Warm.
Way too warm.
Nathan looked down briefly like he noticed it too.
Neither of us moved immediately.
The elevator gave another sharp jerk.
My other hand grabbed his sleeve instinctively.
And somehow that felt even worse.
Because now I could feel the tension in his arm beneath the fabric.
Solid.
Controlled.
Real.
The elevator lights flickered once.
I pulled my hand back quickly like I’d touched fire.
“Sorry.”
Nathan released my wrist slower.
“It’s fine.”
But his voice sounded quieter suddenly.
The elevator stopped moving completely.
Silence.
Real silence this time.
I stared upward slowly.
“No.”
Nathan pressed the emergency button immediately.
Nothing happened.
He pressed it again.
Still nothing.
The elevator remained frozen between floors.
My stomach dropped instantly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Nathan checked the panel again calmly.
Meanwhile I was already entering spiritual crisis.
“I hate elevators,” I muttered.
“You’re claustrophobic?”
“No. I’m dramatic.”
A tiny pause.
Then—
Nathan almost smiled again.
Tiny.
Barely there.
But enough to completely ruin my emotional stability.
I pointed at him immediately.
“See? That. That’s the face from the phone calls.”
Nathan looked at me steadily.
“And this morning?”
“You looked like you fire people recreationally.”
To my horror—
a quiet laugh escaped him.
Small.
Low.
Real.
I froze completely.
Because that sound?
That sound belonged to the man who stayed awake talking to me after midnight.
Not the cold CEO standing beside me every day.
Nathan noticed my expression immediately.
“What?”
“…Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m processing.”
“Dangerous activity.”
The elevator lights flickered again.
Then suddenly—
everything went dark.
- Writer
