Storm at the Door
882 Words
The drive back was quiet, almost unnervingly so. The hum of the car seemed louder than it should have, filling the silence that neither of us wanted to break. My mind was still at the lake—on the golden spill of sunset across the water, on the weight of Kade’s arms, on the way his voice had dropped low and serious when he spoke of honesty and secrets. I tried to tell myself I was overthinking it, but a chill had nestled deep inside me, no matter how warm his presence had been.
By the time we turned onto the street leading to the orphanage, the sky had transformed. Heavy clouds pressed low, blotting out the moon. A jagged line of lightning ripped across the horizon, lighting the world in a stark flash of white. And yet… silence. No thunder followed, only the unnatural hush of a world waiting for something to break.
Kade pulled the car to a stop in front of the gates. His hand lingered on the wheel, tense, as if he didn’t want this moment to end.
“I’ll walk you back,” he said at last, his tone leaving little room for argument.
But I tried anyway. “It’s just a short walk,” I said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, dark and unreadable. He glanced toward the sky, toward the restless storm that gathered like a living thing. “Talia…”
I forced a smile, though my heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll call you from the orphanage phone as soon as I’m inside. I promise. It’ll only take a minute.”
He didn’t move, didn’t seem convinced. For a long moment he simply looked at me, and I felt the weight of his gaze—serious, searching, almost desperate. At last he sighed, his shoulders loosening just enough for him to relent.
“Fine. But don’t make me wait long.”
I nodded and reached for the door handle, but before I could push it open, Kade leaned forward suddenly. His arms slipped around my waist, firm and unyielding, pulling me against him.
My breath hitched.
His hold was strong, but not crushing—it was… grounding. Safe. My head brushed his shoulder as he inhaled, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing something he couldn’t afford to lose. Then, with quiet care, he pressed his lips to my forehead.
The gesture stunned me. Kade had hugged me before, countless times, but never like this. Never with such intensity, such intent. Never with a kiss that felt like it carried all the words he wasn’t saying.
I froze, overwhelmed, heat rushing to my face. When he finally loosened his hold, I stepped back slowly, still reeling from the unexpected closeness.
“Goodnight, Kade,” I whispered, softer than I meant to.
He gave a small nod, his eyes still on me, heavy with something I didn’t understand.
I forced a smile and slipped out of the car. The night air was cool and damp, the storm heavy on the breeze. As I started toward the orphanage gates, my thoughts tangled into a dozen messy knots—Kade’s seriousness, his offer for me to move to his city, and the way he had just held me like I was something more than his best friend. But most of all, I worried about what waited for me inside.
The headmistress’s voice echoed in my mind like a whip. Late again, useless girl. Ungrateful, selfish… My steps quickened.
A raindrop struck my cheek, then another, then another. The drizzle became steadier, soaking through my clothes. The wind picked up, tugging at my hair. Then came the sound I had been waiting for—the low, rolling growl of thunder, rumbling closer with every breath.
My heart pounded as I broke into a run. The path was slick and uneven, the storm turning the night into a blur of shadows. My lungs burned, my legs ached, but relief surged when the orphanage loomed ahead, tall and dark against the storm-split sky.
I reached the steps, water streaming down my face and arms, my hair plastered against my skin. Lightning flashed again, so bright it left spots in my vision.
For a moment, I stood there, hand trembling as it hovered over the worn wooden door. My chest heaved, my breath shallow. I knew what was waiting inside—the fury, the punishment, the pain. Kade’s arms had been warm and safe, but here at the door, reality pressed down on me like iron chains.
I closed my eyes, drawing in one long breath to steady myself. If the headmistress punishes me, so be it. I’ll endure it. For him. For us.
I lifted my fist and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.
The sound echoed through the storm, sharp against the silence.
And then… nothing. No footsteps. No voices. Just the howl of wind and the steady drum of rain.
I pressed my fist against the wood, my forehead leaning against the door as another crack of lightning split the night.
Please… just open…
The storm raged around me. And in that suspended moment—between the knock and whatever waited on the other side—I felt the dread settle in my bones.
- Writer
