THE THINGS WE DON’T SAY
1275 Words
(Chloe stood at Zara’s front door longer than necessary, her fingers still resting on the handle as if leaving would make everything too real.
Zara leaned against the wall, arms folded but eyes soft.)
Zara - You said you’d tell her. (she said gently) You have to tell your mum.
(Chloe nodded, though the weight of that statement pressed hard against her chest.)
Chloe - I will. I just . . . I need a minute to think about how.
(Zara stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug)
Zara - You don’t have to carry this alone, okay? Not with me. Not with anyone who actually cares about you.
(Chloe exhaled slowly, holding onto her best friend for just a second longer before pulling away)
Chloe - Thank you.
Zara - Text me when you get to work, (Zara added) giving her a look that meant I’m serious.
Chloe managed a small smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * * * *
(By the time Chloe got back to her office, she had already slipped back into her usual role—composed, confident, untouchable. The CEO. The woman everyone admired.
But today, it felt like a costume.
She had barely settled into her chair when the door opened without a knock.)
Dylan - Wow (his voice came, easy and familiar. Security really loves me.
(Chloe looked up, startled—but not surprised.)
Chloe - Or they’ve just given up trying to stop you.
(He grinned, walking in like he owned the place.)
Dylan - I prefer to think I’m charming.
(She tried to smile back, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.)
(Dylan noticed immediately. His expression shifted, the playful energy fading.)
Dylan - Uh oh . . . what’s wrong?”
Chloe - Nothing, (she said quickly, looking down at her desk.)
Dylan - Chloe.
(Something in the way he said her name—soft, steady—made her pause.)
(He pulled a chair closer and sat in front of her, leaning forward slightly.)
Dylan - You’re a terrible liar. What happened?
(She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the desk.)
Chloe - I’m fine, (she tried again, weaker this time.)
(Dylan didn’t move.)
Dylan - You don’t look fine, and I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.
(Silence stretched between them. Then Chloe swallowed hard.)
Chloe - It’s about last night.
Dylan - (His brows furrowed.) The date?
(She nodded slowly, her voice quieter now.)
Chloe - The man my mum wants me to see . . . Derek.
(Dylan’s jaw tightened at the name.)
Chloe - He . . . crossed a line, (Chloe continued carefully.) I got out of there before anything worse could happen, but it . . . it shook me.
(Dylan’s hands clenched, but his voice stayed calm.)
Dylan - Are you safe?
Chloe - ‘Yes’ (she said quickly.) I’m okay. I just . . . I can’t stop thinking about it.
(For a moment, Dylan didn’t speak. Then he leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair as if trying to steady himself.)
Dylan - I’m serious, if I ever see him— (he stopped, exhaling.) ‘No’. That’s not what you need right now.
(He looked back at her, softer now.)
Dylan -Come on. You’re not staying here today.
(Chloe blinked.) “I have work—”
Dylan - You’re the CEO, he cut in. You can survive one day off.
(She hesitated. Then, for the first time, she let herself breathe.)
Chloe - . . . Where are we going?
Dylan - A small smile returned to his face. Spa day.
* * * * *
(The spa was quiet, calm—everything Chloe’s mind wasn’t.
For a while, it helped. The warm air, the soft music, the stillness.
And then Dylan walked out of the changing room.
Without his usual layers, without the casual confidence he wore like armor, he looked . . . different.
Real.
Chloe quickly looked away, her heart doing something unpredictable.)
Dylan - Too much? (he asked, amused.)
Chloe - No, (she said too quickly.) I just wasn’t expecting—
Dylan - Me to look this good? (he teased.)
Chloe - Oh please(She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile now.)
(Still, she couldn’t ignore the way her thoughts kept drifting back to him.
And judging by the way Dylan occasionally avoided her gaze, she wasn’t the only one feeling it.
They sat close, closer than usual.
Their hands brushed once—then again.
Neither of them pulled away immediately.
Something shifted.
Something neither of them named.)
* * * * *
(Later, in the car, the silence between them felt heavier—but not uncomfortable.
Just . . . charged.
Chloe turned slightly toward him. “Thank you. For today.”
Dylan glanced at her, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it. “You don’t have to thank me.”)
Chloe - I do, (she said quietly.) You didn’t have to show up.”
Dylan - Of course I did, I always show up, (he replied.)
(Their eyes met.
And for a second—just a second—it felt like everything else faded.
He leaned in slightly.
She did too.
And then—
His phone rang.
They both froze.)
(Dylan pulled back quickly, clearing his throat as he glanced at the screen.)
Dylan - Uh . . . it’s Miles. (His male best friend)
Chloe - Of course it is. (she let out a small, awkward laugh.)
(He answered briefly, confirming plans, then hung up.)
Dylan - Apparently I’m late, (he said, rubbing the back of his neck.) Miles and Tim are already there.
(She nodded, the moment slipping away.)
Chloe - You should go.
* * * * *
(He drove her home himself.
No driver. No distractions.
Just the two of them.
When they arrived, he stepped out to open her door.)
Dylan - Text me when you’re inside.
Chloe - You sound like Zara. (she smiled faintly)
Dylan - Good. That means I’m doing something right.
(She hesitated, then stepped closer.)
Chloe - Thank you, Dylan.
Dylan - For what?
Chloe - For . . . being you.
(For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then she turned and walked inside.)
* * * * *
(Up in her room, Chloe lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
Every moment replayed in her mind.
The way he looked at her.
The almost-kiss.
The way her heart hadn’t calmed since—
A knock on the door pulled her out of it.)
Mrs. Anderson - Chloe? Are you okay?
(Chloe sat up quickly.) “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Mrs. Anderson - Can I come in?
Chloe - Just a minute!
(She took a breath, steadying herself before opening the door.
Her mum stepped in, studying her face.)
Mrs. Anderson - You seem tired.
Chloe - Work. (She said simply.)
(Her mum nodded slowly.)
Mrs. Anderson - You should rest more. And . . . maybe give Derek another chance. First dates can be—
Chloe - I’m not interested, (she cut in, a little too sharply.)
Mrs. Anderson - (Looking surprised.) Alright . . . we’ll talk about it later.
(After she left, Chloe closed the door and leaned against it.
Zara’s words echoed in her mind.
“You have to tell her.“
Guilt settled in her chest.
But the words wouldn’t come.
Not yet.
And as Chloe lay back down, staring at the ceiling again, one thought refused to leave her mind—
Not Derek.
Not her mum.
Dylan.)
- Writer
