when silence speaks
1414 Words
It started with a missed call.
Just one, on a Monday morning. Thandi wasn’t worried—Collen often got busy with work, especially when he had editing deadlines. But by evening, when her texts were still unread, a familiar knot twisted in her stomach.
By Tuesday, the knot turned into a silent storm.
No messages. No missed calls. No updates on his w******p status. Nothing.
She replayed their last conversation in her head a dozen times, searching for something—anything—that could explain his sudden absence. Everything had felt fine. Better than fine, even. They had just spent the weekend laughing over a braai with his cousins. He kissed her forehead before he left and said, “I’ll call you later.”
But he didn’t.
---
By Wednesday, her thoughts were no longer whispers. They were screams.
Maybe he’s changed his mind.
Maybe I said too much.
Maybe I loved too openly again.
Maybe it’s happening… again.
That night, she stood in her kitchen staring at her phone like it owed her answers. Her mother’s words echoed faintly in the back of her mind—“Don’t push him away.” But how could she hold onto someone who wasn’t reaching back?
She didn’t sleep. She scrolled, she paced, she cried without knowing exactly why. It wasn’t just about Collen going quiet—it was the sudden trigger of every man who had left before him, without explanation, without closure.
And this time, it hurt more.
Because she had believed in him.
---
By Friday, she was done hoping.
She blocked his number. Deleted the thread of messages she had reread all week. She even packed away the little hoodie he’d left behind after one of their movie nights. It still smelled like him—cologne and peppermint tea.
But she refused to cry again.
Until Saturday.
That’s when he showed up at her door.
Eyes tired. Face heavy. Regret carved into every line of his expression.
“Thandi…”
She didn’t speak.
He exhaled slowly. “I messed up.”
She crossed her arms, heart hardening. “A whole week, Collen. Without a word.”
“I know. I just—” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “My uncle passed. It hit me harder than I expected. I shut down. I didn’t want to bring you into that… sadness.”
Thandi’s breath caught in her throat. Her anger softened—but didn’t leave. “You didn’t have to protect me from your pain. I just needed to know you were okay.”
He stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to disappear. I just… didn’t know how to deal.”
There was silence between them now—but not the kind that hurt.
The kind that made space for choice.
Thandi looked at him. The man who made her feel safe. The man who also triggered the scars she thought she’d healed.
Could she trust again?
She didn’t answer yet.
But for the first time, she didn’t run either.
They sat on the couch, the same couch they’d once laughed on while arguing about which direction it should face. Now, it felt like unfamiliar territory.
Collen’s hands rested between his knees. Thandi sat upright, arms folded, like she was holding herself together.
He broke the silence first.
“I’ve always been the one people leaned on,” he said quietly. “But I never really learned how to lean back. When things get heavy, I disappear. It’s not right—but it’s my default.”
Thandi didn’t look at him. “And what does that make me, Collen? A stranger? After everything we’ve shared… I didn’t even deserve a ‘Hey, I’m going through something’?”
He nodded slowly, shame written across his face. “You’re right. I should have trusted you. I should’ve let you in.”
A long pause stretched between them.
Thandi blinked hard, her voice quiet but firm. “I’ve been here before. Loving people who vanish when it gets hard. Who leave me wondering if I was ever enough.”
“You are enough,” he said quickly, leaning closer. “This wasn’t about you. It was about me not knowing how to be vulnerable when it counts.”
She finally met his gaze. “And what happens the next time life gets hard?”
He looked at her then—not as someone defending himself, but as someone ready to change.
“I want to do better. I want to be someone who doesn’t run. Not from you. Not from life. But I need you to tell me the truth… can you still trust me?”
Thandi didn’t answer right away.
Her heart was a battlefield—past wounds screaming at her to protect herself, but her soul whispering, He came back.
And that meant something.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I’m not walking away either.”
Collen nodded. “Then let’s figure it out. Together.”
He reached for her hand. She hesitated… then let him hold it.
It wasn’t forgiveness.
Not yet.
But it was a beginning.
It happened again.
At first, Thandi tried not to panic. She gave him space. Told herself not to overthink. Maybe Collen was just busy. Maybe he’d learned his lesson from last time.
But deep down, she felt it.
The shift.
The silence that wasn’t just distance—it was avoidance. Disconnection.
By the third day without a response to her messages, something in her broke. Not gently. Not quietly.
She typed furiously:
“Are you serious right now?”
“So we’re doing this again?”
“Just say it. If you’ve lost interest—say it. If there’s someone else, tell me. I won’t be embarrassed for loving you. I’ll be hurt—but I’ll heal.”
No reply.
Her fingers shook. Her heart was screaming, You should have known better.
---
That Friday night, Thandi did what she promised herself she wouldn’t do—she searched his name on i********:.
He hadn’t posted in weeks. But he’d been tagged.
A blurry photo.
A party.
Him in the background.
Smiling.
A woman’s arm looped casually around his.
Her chest tightened. Logic fought emotion—It could be nothing. But her gut whispered, It’s exactly what you think it is.
She didn’t wait for answers.
She didn’t need confirmation.
The betrayal had already been named by his silence.
---
The next day, she went to his apartment.
She wasn’t calm.
She knocked hard—once, twice—until he opened the door, confusion on his face, wearing the same hoodie she bought him weeks ago.
“Thandi?”
“Oh, now you remember my name?” she snapped, pushing past him.
“Wait, what’s going on—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Collen,” she said, eyes blazing. “You disappear again, just like last time. No texts. No calls. Nothing. And then I find pictures? You at a party? With some girl all over you?”
His expression shifted—from confusion to guilt in a heartbeat.
“It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly. “She’s just a friend. It was my cousin’s birthday. I wasn’t avoiding you—”
“You were avoiding me,” she cut in. “And I’m tired, Collen. I’m tired of being the one who has to guess where I stand. You made me believe this was real.”
He ran a hand over his face. “It is real. I just… I shut down again. I didn’t know how to talk to you after the last time. I thought you were still mad. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
Thandi laughed bitterly. “So you made it worse by disappearing? Again?”
“I didn’t cheat,” he said firmly.
“But you left me wondering,” she whispered, eyes stinging. “And that’s a kind of betrayal too.”
He didn’t have a response for that.
And maybe that was answer enough.
---
That night, Thandi packed up every piece of him left in her flat.
She didn’t cry. Not like before.
This pain was sharper. Colder. Not because she still loved him—but because she had almost convinced herself that she was finally safe.
She wasn't.
And now, the hardest part wasn’t losing him.
It was realizing she was still the girl who never saw it coming—again.
---
- Writer
