Tears In Heaven

CHAPTER 2:The Deafening Silence

Chapter 2:

The Deafening Silence

The laughter in their halls had once been a melody that filled every corner of their home — light, spontaneous, and full of promise. It was the soundtrack of their days, the music that made walls feel alive with joy. Even in the simplest moments, like planning their wedding or dreaming of faraway places, laughter was the thread that bound them together.

But that melody had started to falter. What once was effortless grew strained; silences stretched longer, heavy enough to press down on Agatha’s chest. The silence was no longer peaceful but a reminder of unspoken words and truths.

Agatha woke one morning to find Joash sitting on the edge of their bed, staring blankly at his phone. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting him gold, but it did little to soften the distance in his eyes.

“Morning, Hon” she whispered, brushing the hair from his forehead.

He looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t reach. “Morning.”

She sat beside him, tracing the outline of his hand. “You’ve been quiet lately. Is something bothering you?”

Joash hesitated, then shook his head. “Just tired.”

But Agatha knew better. His silence carried a weight he refused to share.

That afternoon, their apartment was cluttered with wedding magazines, swatches of fabric, and half-finished to-do lists. Joash was flipping through a travel brochure, his gaze distant.

“What are you thinking about?” Agatha asked, sliding closer.

Joash tapped a page showing rolling hills, dramatic cliffs, and the quiet majesty of England’s countryside. “Greenwich. I want us to go there for our honeymoon. Imagine us standing by the Thames, looking at the skyline, walking hand in hand through the gardens.”

Agatha laughed, brightening the air between them. “London? You’d rather freeze in scarves than lie on a beach?”

“Exactly,” he teased. “Greenwich — where history meets the sea, where time itself begins. Wouldn’t that be unforgettable?”

Her laughter rang out, echoing like balm over their unspoken distance. For a moment, they found their rhythm again.

But peace was fragile.

Later that evening, Agatha noticed Joash’s phone buzzing with a notification. The name on the screen made her pause: Z.E.

Her pulse skipped. She asked lightly, trying to sound calm, “Who’s Z.E.?”

Joash stiffened. “Just an old friend.”

“What are you hiding from me?” The words slipped sharper than intended.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his jaw tight.

Agatha searched his face but forced herself to nod. “Okay. If you say so.”

Agatha forced herself to believe him. She pushed the unease aside and returned to the wedding plans scattered on the table, trying to recapture the warmth they’d shared moments ago.

Days passed, and life seemed to settle back into its usual rhythm, though Agatha couldn’t completely quiet the nagging feeling in her chest. Joash was quieter than usual and a little more distracted. However, he still left his familiar notes around the apartment — little reminders that he loved her and was there.

She tried to bury the unease, telling herself trust was stronger than suspicion. For days, she clung to the small gestures — Joash’s handwritten notes tucked into her books, his arm draped over her as they drifted to sleep.

But then, one rainy afternoon, the truth returned to her life.

Agatha was folding laundry when Joash’s phone buzzed again on the counter. She meant to ignore it — until her eyes caught the name. Zara Elizabeth Alcantara.

Her breath caught in her throat. Zara.

The name carried a weight. A memory of the girl who had once been close to Joash, a ghost they had both believed gone. Agatha remembered the whispered news months ago — that Zara had died. Yet here her name was, lighting up Joash’s phone.

The preview line blurred her vision: “Miss you. Call me when you can.” Her heart raced. Dead girls don't send messages. Her heart thundered. Dead girls don’t send messages.

“Why… why is Zara messaging you?” Agatha whispered when Joash appeared behind her. Her voice trembled, straining to stay calm. “We thought she was gone. You told me—”

Joash’s face drained of colour. He took the phone gently from her shaking hands.“Agatha, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think?” Her voice cracked. “You’ve been hiding this from me. For how long?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” His voice was low, almost pleading. “Some things from my past aren’t easy to explain.”

Her tears blurred everything. “This isn’t just your past anymore, Joash. It’s our future. How am I supposed to trust you when you keep her alive here—” she gestured at the phone— “in secrets you don’t share with me?”

Silence was suffocating until Joash finally said, barely in a whisper, “I need time.”

He turned and walked out, the door closing with a finality that felt like a crack in her chest.

Agatha collapsed onto the couch, the weight of Zara’s name burning through her palm even though the phone was gone. The laughter in their halls was gone too, drowned in silence and the shadows of someone who was never supposed to return.

The following days passed in uneasy quiet. Once alive with shared playlists and playful chatter, their home felt like a museum of muted memories. Wedding magazines lay untouched on the coffee table, their glossy pages gathering dust. Fabric swatches and invitation drafts sat where they had been left, like time had stopped. Every reminder of the celebration they had dreamed of only deepened the ache between them.

Then came the day it all cracked open again.

Joash was drawn to the stack of unmailed invitations by the door. The weight of the unfulfilled promises seemed to press down on him as he flipped one over, the blank space where stamps should feel heavier than stone.

"You still haven't sent these out?" His voice cut through the silence.

Agatha looked up from where she sat, her eyes rimmed red, her voice trembling with the weight of her emotions. "I… I couldn't. Not like this."

"Not like this?" His tone sharpened, anger sparking in his eyes. "Do you think weddings plan themselves, Agatha? Do you think I can care about everything while you sit there doubting me?" His frustration was palpable, hanging heavy in the air.

Her breath hitched, words fumbling out. "It's not about the wedding, Joash. It's about us. How can we stand before everyone and promise forever when I don't know if you're here with me now?"

Something inside him snapped. He shoved the invitations onto the floor, the envelopes scattering like broken promises. "I am here! I'm holding this together while you let everything fall apart!"

Agatha's tears blurred her vision. "Holding it together? You call hiding things from me, lying to me, holding it together?"

Joash's chest heaved, fury rolling off him in waves. His hand twitched at his side, his face twisted with frustration so raw it bordered on dangerous. For one terrible moment, Agatha thought he might lash out. She stepped back, her spine pressing against the wall, her body trembling.

But then, with a strangled breath, he stopped. His fist unclenched, falling uselessly to his side. He turned away, shame flickering in his eyes. Without another word, he grabbed his coat and stormed out. The door slammed behind him, rattling the picture frames on the wall, scattering one of their engagement photos onto the floor.

Agatha stood frozen in the wreckage — wedding details strewn across the carpet, her chest tight with a grief that felt like betrayal. What had once been the celebration of their love now loomed over them like a deadline they could no longer meet.

And then — silence.

A loud silence swallowed every trace of laughter their home had ever known.

End of Chapter 2