WHEN THE SILENCE HURTS

By the time I shut down my computer, my head was already buzzing. Not in a dramatic way — just the dull, constant pressure that came from pretending all day. Smiling when spoken to. Answering emails fast enough. Making sure my voice didn’t shake during meetings. I was good at that part. I had trained myself to be. I checked the time. Mara would be outside soon. That thought alone loosened something in my chest. End of day meant safety. It meant getting out before the noise swallowed me whole. I took the elevator down, eyes fixed on the floor numbers, rehearsing nothing in particular — just letting my mind empty the way I always did before stepping back into the world. The doors opened. The lobby was louder than usual. Voices clustered near the front desk. Suits. A shift in energy that didn’t belong to the everyday rhythm of the place. People stood straighter. Laughed a little too carefully. My stomach tightened. I told myself it was nothing. Then someone said his name. “Mr. Cross will be taking the meeting upstairs.” I stopped walking. It felt like my body reacted before my mind could catch up — heat rushing up my neck, fingers going cold, breath stuttering halfway through my lungs. No. I lifted my head slowly, like if I didn’t move too fast, reality might correct itself. He stood near the glass doors. Lucas Cross. Not a memory. Not a photo. Not a name I pretended I didn’t still recognize. Him. Taller than I remembered. Broader somehow. Expensive in a way that made the space bend around him — like the building itself knew he didn’t belong to it. My vision narrowed. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t prepared for this version of seeing him — accidental, unguarded, cruelly ordinary. I hadn’t even known he’d be here. My chest tightened, sharp and fast, like my body had mistaken shock for danger. I forced myself to move. One step. Then another. I needed to get outside. Needed air. Needed Mara. The revolving doors blurred as I pushed through them. Mara was leaning against her car, phone in hand, sunglasses pushed up into her hair. She looked up the moment she saw me — then frowned. “Hey,” she said. “What’s wrong with you?” I tried to answer. Nothing came out. She straightened immediately. “Ethan?” I turned my head, just slightly — not even pointing. Just enough. Her gaze followed. I watched the exact second she saw him. Her posture changed. The easy looseness disappeared. Her mouth parted, disbelief flashing across her face before she could hide it. “Oh,” she said quietly. Then, sharper, “Oh no.” My hands were shaking now. I shoved them into my pockets, grounding myself in the rough fabric, focusing on sensation instead of thought. “He’s not—” Mara started, then stopped. “What is he doing here?” I swallowed. Hard. “I don’t know.” Lucas stepped outside. The sound of the door opening felt too loud. Too final. He spoke to someone beside him, expression unreadable, phone already back in his hand. He didn’t look around. Didn’t scan faces. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t see me. That hurt more than the shock. Mara cursed under her breath. “You’re kidding me. You’re actually kidding me.” “I didn’t know,” I said quickly, like I was apologizing for something. “I swear. I didn’t know.” “I know,” she said, eyes still fixed on him. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just—” She exhaled sharply. “What are the odds?” Too high, apparently. Lucas passed by without a glance. Close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne — clean, expensive, unfamiliar in a way that made my chest ache. He didn’t recognize me. Not even a flicker. It was like I’d never existed. My throat burned. I forced myself to breathe slowly, counting the seconds like I’d practiced. In. Out. Stay standing. Don’t fold in on yourself. Mara opened the passenger door without a word. I got in on autopilot. She slammed the door harder than necessary, walked around, and slid into the driver’s seat. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then she said, carefully, “You okay?” I stared straight ahead. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. And that was the worst part.