QUIET CRACKS, SOFT SHIFTS
1157 Words
CHAPTER SIX – Quiet Cracks, Soft Shifts
Amara & Dominic
The silence in the house felt different tonight.
It wasn’t the heavy, haunted kind Amara used to know—the kind that came after fights and slammed doors, when she curled into bed alone and listened to the sound of her heart breaking on loop.
No.
This silence felt like the pause between heartbeats. Like the air holding its breath before something bloomed.
She hadn’t spoken to Dominic since the date. No texts. No calls. Nothing about that confrontation with Sasha. But not because she didn’t want to.
Because she didn’t know how to.
And maybe, more truthfully, she didn’t trust herself not to feel too much if she did.
She sat on the floor in Eliana’s room, folding tiny socks fresh from the laundry, while her daughter lay on her stomach coloring with intense focus.
“Mommy,” Eliana said suddenly, without looking up, “was that man from the festival your boyfriend?”
Amara nearly dropped the pair of socks in her hand.
“Um… what?”
“You know. The motorcycle one. With the eyes like fire and the voice like movie daddies. Is he your boyfriend?”
Amara blinked. “Where… where do you hear things like that?”
Eliana shrugged. “Catherine said her mom saw you two walking together and said you looked pretty.”
“Well,” Amara said slowly, “I did go out for coffee with him.”
Eliana looked up now, face scrunched like she was solving a mystery. “Do you like him?”
“I…” Amara exhaled. “I don’t know yet. He’s kind. And he stood up for me when someone was really mean.”
Eliana nodded sagely, as though weighing her opinion like a judge.
“He smells nice,” she finally said. “And he talked to me like I was important. Not like how Trevor used to.”
Amara’s heart clenched at the mention of her ex’s name. Eliana rarely said it. And when she did, it was never laced with longing. Only observation.
“You remember that?” Amara asked gently.
“Mmhm. He only looked at me when you told him to. And sometimes he’d laugh but not with his eyes. Dominic laughs with his eyes.”
A lump formed in Amara’s throat.
Her little girl was far too perceptive.
“You know, mommy,” Eliana continued, laying her chin on her elbow, “you don’t have to be scared. I think you could be happy again. Maybe even laugh with your eyes too.”
Amara swallowed the ache rising in her chest and scooped Eliana into her arms, tickling her to avoid the tears.
Eliana squealed and giggled, twisting in her grip.
“I love you, starlight,” Amara whispered.
“I love you too, Mommy. Even when you’re scared.”
Later that night, after Eliana had gone to bed, Amara found herself lying awake, staring at the ceiling. She had replayed every second of that coffee date. The way Dominic looked at her like he wasn’t afraid of her silence. The way he didn't flinch when her past reared its head in the form of Sasha. How he didn’t shrink away from her pain but stood firmly in it, beside her.
She turned on her side and stared at the phone resting on her nightstand.
Still no text from him.
But not in the way Trevor would have punished her with silence. This wasn’t a power move.
This was space. This was respect.
She picked up the phone, scrolled to his name, and hovered her thumb over the screen. Her breath caught when a notification lit it up.
Dominic.
Still thinking about the way you said you weren’t ready. Just wanted to say—it’s okay. I’m still here. No matter how long it takes.
Tears welled up unexpectedly in her eyes. No pressure. No demands. Just quiet reassurance.
Her fingers shook slightly as she typed back.
Thank you for waiting.
She hit send.
Her chest felt lighter.
---
Dominic didn’t sleep much that night.
He sat in his garage long after midnight, the door cracked open to let in the cool air, his fingers running over the chrome body of a rebuilt 1975 Harley like it was a breathing thing.
Music played low from an old stereo—blues, soft and full of regret. The kind of songs that weren’t afraid to ache.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Amara.
Not just the way she looked when she smiled, or the way she went quiet when someone said something that touched a bruise she hadn’t told him about yet.
But the way she stood tall anyway. The way she folded pain into silence and moved through the world like she didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
He admired that.
He wanted to protect it.
“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Jace’s voice came from the open side door, casual and amused.
Dominic didn’t look up. “Don’t start.”
“Wasn’t going to. Just… I saw the way you looked at her.”
Dominic finally turned to face his younger brother. Jace leaned against the doorframe with a half-eaten sandwich and one eyebrow c****d.
“Maybe I did,” Dominic said simply.
“Is she worth all this brooding?”
“She’s worth a hell of a lot more than that.”
Jace whistled low. “Damn.”
“She’s been through stuff,” Dominic added, setting down the wrench in his hand. “You can see it in her posture. Her eyes. She doesn’t talk about it. And I’m not gonna force her to.”
Jace nodded slowly. “Sounds like someone you don’t want to mess up with.”
“I won’t.”
“You always say that before you start caring.”
Dominic gave a short laugh. “And when I stop?”
Jace grinned. “You never really do.”
Dominic turned his gaze back to the motorcycle, the moonlight glinting off the metal.
He didn’t want to scare Amara. Didn’t want to rush anything. But he also couldn’t pretend she hadn’t shaken something awake in him.
He remembered the look in her eyes when Sasha spoke. The tension in her shoulders. The way her voice trembled, then stilled.
She hadn’t run.
She’d stayed. Let him stand beside her. That meant something.
He pulled out his phone. Opened her contact.
No pressure, he reminded himself.
He typed: “Still thinking about the way you said you weren’t ready. Just wanted to say—it’s okay. I’m still here. No matter how long it takes.”
He hovered for a second. Then hit send.
Minutes passed.
Then came the reply.
“Thank you for waiting.”
Dominic smiled, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like something was shifting.
Not fast. Not loud. Not fiery.
Just steady.
And real.
- Writer
