🔥 Chapter 12 — “If You Won’t Hear Me, I’ll Go Quietly”
1309 Words
Ella couldn’t remember the last time she breathed normally.
Her days became a cycle of searching for him
—hallways, elevators, the parking lot, his office—
only to watch him turn away every single time.
She came early, stayed late, walked past his door more times than she could count.
Sometimes she just stood there, hand hovering inches from the wood, fighting the urge to knock.
And when she finally did, late one night—
“Michael… please. Open the door.”
Silence.
She pressed her forehead against the cold surface.
“I just want to talk… please.”
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No voice.
Not even a shadow.
He was inside.
She felt him there.
But he wouldn’t open.
Not for her.
---
He stood on the other side of the door.
Barefoot.
In the dark.
Heart hammering like a fist.
He could hear her breathing.
Hear the tremble in her voice.
His hand hovered over the doorknob.
One twist.
Just one twist and she’d be in his arms.
The truth would unravel.
Everything would break open.
He would forgive her, kiss her, fall harder than before—
—and he wouldn’t survive her again if he was wrong.
He stepped back.
If he talked to her now…
if he heard her plead…
if he saw her tears…
He would be lost.
And maybe, he thought bitterly,
maybe losing himself in her was the real danger.
---
Days passed, he avoided her like she was a ghost haunting the hallways.
He turned corners when she approached.
Closed doors when she entered a room.
Pretended to read emails whenever their eyes nearly met.
She didn’t cry in front of him anymore.
She didn’t call.
Didn’t message.
Because he wasn’t ignoring her calls.
He was ignoring her.
She felt it in her bones.
“He doesn’t love me anymore,” she whispered to herself one night.
“He doesn’t even want to hear me.”
And the worst part—the part that scraped her heart raw—
was knowing Alina had lied to him.
But Ella didn’t want Alina to explain the truth.
She didn’t want Mia to fix it with camera footage.
She didn’t want proof.
She wanted him to trust her more than a stranger’s whisper.
More than a rumor.
More than fear.
She wanted him to trust her like she trusted him.
But he didn’t.
That was the real wound.
Not the lie.
Not Axel.
Not the fight.
Michael didn’t believe her.
And that broke something inside her so deeply she didn’t recognize herself anymore.
---
By the end of the week, she could barely sleep, barely function.
She sat at her desk, staring at her computer without seeing anything.
Mia placed a cup of tea in front of her.
“Ella,” she said gently, “you should talk to him again.”
Ella shook her head slowly, painfully.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Then make him listen.”
“No.”
Her voice was empty, hollow.
“He should want to listen.”
Mia froze.
Ella’s eyes were red, swollen but steady.
“I love him… God, I love him so much it hurts to breathe.”
A trembling inhale.
“But I can’t chase someone who keeps running from me.”
Her fingers curled into fists.
“If he doesn’t want the truth from me…
if he thinks a lie fits me better than the truth I tried to give him—
then maybe he doesn’t need me at all.”
“Ella—”
“Maybe it’s time I disappear from his life,” she whispered.
“And let him live the version of me he already believes.”
" No, Ella. Don't give up. Let me show him the camera footages, or make Alina say the truth. He will forgive you, I swear. I can see it in his eyes too. He loves you, this is obvious."
" No" - she turned away quickly, wiping her tears before they could fall.
---
He sat alone in his office later that evening, lights off, staring at the floor.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her tears.
Her trembling hands.
Her broken whisper—
“Please believe me…”
He dug his fingers into his hair.
He wasn’t avoiding her because he didn’t want her.
He avoided her because he wanted her too much.
Because if she spoke,
if she looked at him with those devastated eyes,
if she begged for one more second of his belief—
He would fall to his knees.
He would pull her into him.
He would forgive everything.
And if she broke him again—
He wouldn’t survive it.
He told himself he was protecting himself.
He didn’t realize he was destroying her.
He didn’t realize he was destroying her.
Ella went home after work like a ghost. No dinner. No shower. No music. She just sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall, hands trembling in her lap.
What else could she do?
Where else could she go?
She stopped going to his apartment days ago. Stopped calling.
Stopped messaging.
Stopped begging.
There was no point.
Every time she tried to speak, he shut the door—literally or with silence.
Every time she reached out, he stepped further away.
He didn’t want the truth. He didn’t want her words. He didn’t want… her.
At least that’s what it felt like.
And yes—she knew Alina was the one who had twisted everything.
But Ella refused to let Alina be the one who cleared her name.
If Michael didn’t believe her,
if he only trusted someone like Alina,
if he couldn’t look in her eyes and see the truth—
then what was left?
Nothing.
Her chest tightened painfully. Breathing hurt.
Maybe it was time to give up.
Maybe disappearing was the only thing left she could do for both of them.
---
That night, she picked up the small silver key from her nightstand. The one he had pressed into her palm as he whispered:
“I love you. I want you with me.”
Her vision blurred.
She stood, grabbed her coat, and walked out.
His hallway felt colder than usual. Or maybe she was colder.
This was it. One last knock.
One last hope.
If he didn’t open this time, she would leave his life quietly— so quietly that he wouldn’t even hear her heart break on the way out.
Her hand trembled as she knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Silence.
Her chest cracked open.
Very slowly, she crouched down and slid the key along the floor.
“Goodbye,” she whispered—though no one heard it.
She pushed the key under the door.
Just as she rose, the door yanked open.
She froze.
Michael stood there.
His eyes were red—glassy, hollow, exhausted.
He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
Like someone who’d been fighting ghosts in the dark.
For a moment they just stared at each other—two people drowning in the same ocean but too far apart to touch.
His voice was raw, breaking:
“Ella… why?”
She swallowed hard.
“You didn’t want to see me,” she whispered.
“You didn’t want to hear me. You didn’t believe me. I thought… it was time to stop trying.”
He looked down and saw the key on the floor between them.
His face crumpled.
“Ella,” he breathed, stepping forward, “don’t—don’t leave.”
But she took a step back, tears spilling.
“You already left me,” she said softly.
Michael’s throat tightened.
And for the first time since everything fell apart—
he realized he wasn’t the only one hurting.
He wasn’t just heartbroken.
He was breaking her too.
- Writer
