Where silence bloom
1039 Words
The days passed softly — like silk slipping through fingers.
Leya stayed.
No questions were asked. No reasons were needed. She was just… there.
She became part of Eshan’s quiet world.
And without realizing it, he started measuring time by her presence.
She filled his mornings with the smell of cinnamon and warmth.
She filled his nights with the sound of gentle humming — while drying dishes or hiding wildflowers inside books.
She never asked to stay.
He never asked her to leave.
And between them… something grew.
Not fast. Not spoken out loud.
But deep. Like a seed hidden under the earth, slowly beginning to bloom.
Some mornings, Eshan would find her sleeping on the window bench, wrapped in a soft blanket, her hair messy with moonlight.
He would stop and just look — his heart tightening at the sight.
He wanted to walk up to her.
To tuck her hair behind her ear.
To gently touch her face with his hand.
To breathe her in — slowly, deeply — like someone who had been missing something for years.
But he never did.
Instead, he made her tea.
And left a daisy in the saucer.
At the flower shop, she became his quiet partner.
She swept the floor with bare feet.
Arranged flowers with her hands like she was playing music.
Eshan would watch from behind the counter, forgetting about ribbons or wrapping.
His eyes always found her — the way her head tilted, how her dress moved, how she bit her lip when she was thinking.
And sometimes…
Their fingers would brush — over petals, over stems, or over nothing at all.
They would freeze.
Look at each other.
Not speak.
But their breathing would change.
The air would feel heavier.
Like something was waiting to happen.
Then — one blink, one small step back — and it would all disappear.
Almost.
They started having tea together at midnight.
It became a quiet habit, though they never named it.
She sat on the floor, cross-legged.
He sat on the couch.
Only a single candle flickered between them.
One night, rain gently tapped against the windows. She looked at him with soft, shining eyes.
“You’re always so quiet,” she said softly.
He held her gaze.
"Maybe… just maybe…
I am silent for no other reason
but to hear you breathe again —
because even your silence
speaks louder to my soul
than the rest of the world ever did," he whispered.
“What?” she asked, confused by the softness in his voice.
This time, he didn’t answer.
He just stepped closer to her…
Their hands touched.
Fingers gently wrapped around each other.
And they didn’t let go.
Then, his hand slowly reached up —
For the first time, he touched her hair.
At that very moment, her dress strap slipped from her shoulder.
The sunlight — golden and warm — fell softly across her skin.
Eshan, without thinking, gently fixed the strap.
His fingers then slowly moved down through her hair.
She didn’t stop him. She didn’t move.
His hand paused at the back of her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
But she looked straight into his eyes and said,
“Don’t be.”
And somehow, it felt like she was looking right into his soul.
He stood there, heart pounding.
His fingers still tangled in her soft hair.
She leaned into his touch.
Just a little.
But enough.
His hand moved to her shoulder.
His thumb lightly touched her skin —
Slowly. Carefully.
They didn’t speak a word.
But their silence…
felt louder than anything they could have ever said.
There was a strange tension between them now — something tender, intense, and completely new. Neither of them had ever felt this before. Maybe it was too much, too soon… maybe they weren’t ready. Eshan felt it too — the confusion, the weight of what just passed between them — and so, without saying a word, he quietly turned and walked back to his room.
That night, neither of them could sleep.
Eshan lay awake on the couch.
Leya lay across the room, her eyes open.
They didn’t move.
But inside… they burned.
A week later, it rained heavily.
The lights went out.
They sat near the fireplace. The storm roared outside.
Wind howled like voices from far away.
She was cold.
Quietly, Eshan moved behind her.
And loss his control....
Wrapped his arms around her.
Pulled her close to his chest.
Her breath caught.
She didn’t move.
She just let herself melt into him — slowly, like falling into a memory.
His hand moved up her arm. Skin to skin.
She turned her face slightly.
And her cheek touched his lips.
It wasn’t a kiss.
But it wasn’t nothing either.
He breathed her in.
“Leya…” he whispered, his voice full of feeling.
She turned her face more.
Now their lips were almost touching.
Their eyes met.
So close.
So still.
Then their foreheads touched.
Their breaths mixed.
He held her tighter.
She held onto his shirt.
And then — their lips met.
Soft. Careful.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
This wasn’t rushed.
It was full of hunger…
But slow.
They explored each other.
His hand slid up her back, fingers lost in her hair.
Her arms circled his neck, pulling him closer — like she wanted him to disolve in her...
When they finally pulled away, they said nothing.
They just held each other.
Listening to the rain.
To their breathing.
To the feeling of something delicate finally being touched.
—
They didn’t make love that night.
But something inside both of them had opened.
From that night on…
Their touches changed.
His hand found her waist more often.
Her head rested on his shoulder.
Her fingers touched his jaw gently when passing by.
He would stop behind her… just to breathe near her neck.
She leaned into him… like he was the only place that truly felt like home.
But still — neither of them said it.
Still — no one confessed.
Because sometimes… love grows in silence.
And both were afraid that saying it out loud might break something that already felt perfect.
- Writer
