CHAPTER 7 - Silence
1761 Words
The room was still dim and the surrounding very quiet. Aimee woke up the second time, first was before Philip left the she slept again. For a moment, she layed still, listening to her own breathing, trying to remember everything that that has happened.
Then she remembered.
The other side of the bed was empty. The sheet was untouched and smooth like no one had slept there at all. Only the faint indentation near the edge hinted that someone had been there earlier and had left without a sound.
She sat up slowly.
The events of the night before came back in fragments she hadn’t invited. The way his voice sounded very low, the way he’d looked at her as though he was seeing something he didn’t want to acknowledge, The heat of his hand as they went through her body, the way she’d let herself forget, just for a few hours, who he was and who she wasn’t.
Aimee swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.
She found her phone on the bedside table, the screen was dark, She picked it up, her thumb brushed across the glass automatically.
There was no notifications, she frowned a little.
It was early. He was probably already at work. Men like Philip didn’t linger. They don't stay at a place for long because the have things to do.
She told herself that as she walked into the bathroom and turned on the light.
The mirror reflected a woman who looked more tired than she felt. Her hair was a mess, her eyes a little too bright. She splashed water on her face and avoided looking at herself for too long.
“You knew this,” she murmured.
She dressed quickly, she tried not to think about the situation anymore then went into the kitchen. she filled the kettle and set it on the stove, then leaned back against the counter while she waited.
Her phone lay beside her. It was facing her, she didn't remember placing it there at all.
When the kettle clicked off, she startled, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. She poured the water, added tea, took a sip she barely tasted.
Still nothing.
She flipped the phone face down, then immediately turned it back over.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Her own voice sounded too loud in the quiet apartment.
He hadn’t promised anything. That was the truth. He’d been careful about his words and so you don't begin to expect. He had made sure she understood the boundaries, even while crossing them.
So why did the silence feel like a reprimand? She remembered she had work to do, then lazily dressed up and left the apartment.
At work, the kitchen was its usual chaos, and Aimee welcomed it. From the heat, the noise, the constant demand for attention left no room for reflection. She focused on her tasks with precision, slicing vegetables, stirring sauces, calling out orders without hesitation.
“Table six needs theirs now,” someone shouted.
“Coming,” she replied, already moving.
She didn’t check her phone until her break, and even then, she hesitated before pulling it from her pocket. The screen lit up.
Nothing.
Her expression changed.
“You okay?” one of the servers asked, leaning against the counter beside her. “You’ve been quiet today.”
“I’m fine,” Aimee said immediately.
The words came out easily.
The server looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “If you say so.”
Aimee forced a small smile and looked away.
By the time her shift ended, exhaustion had settled deep into her muscles. Outside, it was already getting dark, and the air cool against her skin.
She checked her phone again.
Still nothing.
She heaved a huge sigh and left for the bus.On the bus ride home, she stared out the window, watching the city blur past.
Her thoughts circled the same questions, over and over.
Did she misunderstood everything, she didn't. She shook her head slightly. She had not imagined the way he’d looked at her. She hadn’t imagined the intensity of the night, the careful way he’d touched her, like he was aware of exactly how much damage he could do.
But intensity didn’t equal intention.
Men like Philip didn’t owe explanations. They didn’t owe anything at all.
When she got home, the apartment felt smaller than usual. It was always quiet as she was alone, She set her bag down and leaned against the door for a moment, eyes closed
“You’re not a child,” she told herself. “Get a grip.”
She cooked dinner out of habit, though she barely ate. When her phone buzzed suddenly, she jumped off the bed to grab it.
A notification from work.
She sighed.
Later on, why lying on bed the silence pressed in on her. The ceiling fan hummed softly above her, the sound oddly comforting. She rested her phone on her chest, fingers curled around it loosely.
Maybe he was busy and didn't remember to call or even text, that was reasonable because he was always bussy. Maybe he'll call tomorrow, she said.
She held on to that thought and then slept off
Anyhow, tomorrow came and went yet there was nothing.
By the third day, she stopped checking her phone every few minutes. By the fifth, she told herself she didn’t care. By the seventh, the lie felt heavy on her tongue.
She stood in the bathroom one morning, toothbrush paused midair, a strange unease settling low in her stomach. She frowned, dismissing it as stress.
It had been a long week.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at it, then looked away.
She already knew.
The silence had said everything.
Philips pov;
Philip had learned, very early in life, that silence was safer than explanations.
He sat in the back seat of the car as it cut through traffic, city lights sliding across the tinted windows like reflections he didn’t want to acknowledge. His phone lay in his palm, screen dark, heavier than it had any right to be.
He hadn’t turned it on.
Not since he’d stepped out of the apartment that morning.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Sir, we’re ten minutes out.”
Philip nodded once. “Mm.”
His mind wasn’t on the meeting ahead. It wasn’t on the board members waiting for him, or the numbers he’d memorized the night before. It was on a quiet apartment. On a woman standing too close to him. On the way she’d looked at him like she wasn’t asking for anything at all, and somehow that had been worse.
He closed his fingers around the phone.
Leaving early had been deliberate.
It wasn't being wicked it was necessary.
He had woken before dawn, the weight of reality settling back onto his shoulders with ruthless efficiency. The world he lived in didn’t allow room for softness. It certainly didn’t allow room for mistakes.
And Aimee… she was dangerous in a way he hadn’t anticipated.
She hadn’t tried to impress him. Hadn’t reached for his name like it meant something. She’d looked at him like a man, not a title, and that had unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Philip exhaled slowly.
He should never have stayed the night.
At the office, everything moved at its usual pace, live every normal day, Assistants spoke in clipped tones. Screens lit up with figures and projections. Decisions were made and executed without hesitation.
Philip thrived in that environment.Everything was predictable and he had control.
Still, his attention fractured at the smallest things.
There would be a pause between meetings, the he'd full a conversation.
The brief vibration of his phone as it connected to the network.
He didn’t look.
“Sir?” his assistant said carefully. “The board is ready.”
Philip stood. “Let’s proceed.”
The meeting was tense. He felt it the moment he walked in. Eyes lingered too long. Questions circled too carefully.
He answered them all.
But when it was over, when the room emptied and the doors closed behind him, the unease remained.
“You’re being watched,” his uncle said quietly, stepping into the office without knocking.
Philip didn’t look up. “I assumed as much.”
“This isn’t normal pressure,” the man continued. “This is positioning.”
Philip leaned back in his chair, finally lifting his gaze. “Say what you mean.”
“There’s movement. From people who shouldn’t be moving yet.”
Philip’s jaw tightened. “How long?”
“A while.”
He laughed softly, without humor. “Of course.”
By the end of the day, his phone was no longer a personal device. It was a liability.
He handed it over without protest.
“No outgoing calls,” the security chief said. “Not until we’re sure.”
Philip nodded. He understood protocols. He’d lived under them his entire life.
Still, when the phone was placed in a sealed case and taken from the room, something twisted in his chest.
It wasn't panic, it was regret.
That night, alone in his penthouse, Philip stood by the window and stared down at the city. Somewhere out there, life was continuing without him. Somewhere out there, Aimee was probably going about her day, unaware that the world he inhabited had already begun to shift.
She would check her phone.
He knew that.
The thought sat heavy and uncomfortable.
He told himself she would forget him.
That was safer. For both of them.
Days blurred together. Meetings became shorter. Security tighter. Conversations more guarded. The air around him felt charged, like a storm gathering just out of sight.
When the order finally came, it was swift.
“You’re leaving,” his father said, not looking at him. “Tonight.”
Philip didn’t argue.
He packed with precision. It wasn't the first time such thing happened he already understood. He left the city without ceremony, escorted like a liability rather than an heir.
On the plane, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and controlled silence, Philip closed his eyes.
He wonderd if Aimee hated him yet, or she had been used to him.
The thought stung more than he expected.
But explanations were luxuries. And right now, he couldn’t afford any.
By the time the plane landed, the life he’d known was already out of reach.
And the silence he’d chosen had become a wall he couldn’t climb back over.
- Writer
