What You Didn’t Answer
867 Words
Linton City — Restaurant
Mira’s absence lingered for a moment after she left.
Not awkward—
Just… noticeable.
Isolde watched the door for a second longer, then let out a small breath and turned back.
Lucian was still there.
Exactly as before.
Unmoved.
For some reason—
That steadiness felt louder now.
She picked up her fork again, though she didn’t immediately eat.
“…You didn’t answer me earlier,” she said, her voice calm but quieter than before.
Lucian’s gaze rested on her.
“About what?”
Her fingers paused slightly against the plate.
“…The nickname.”
A small silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
But deliberate.
Isolde didn’t rush it.
Didn’t look away either.
She waited.
Lucian leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unchanged.
“…You said it suited him,” he replied.
“That’s not what I asked.”
A pause.
“…Did it suit you?”
There it was.
Simple.
Direct.
But not forced.
Lucian didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze lowered—just slightly—before returning to her.
“…At the time,” he said.
Not denial.
Not confirmation.
But close enough.
Isolde felt it.
Her grip tightened faintly around the fork before she set it down.
“…So you remember,” she said softly.
It wasn’t a question.
Lucian didn’t correct her.
Silence settled between them again—
But this time, it felt different.
Not uncertain.
Grounded.
Isolde exhaled slowly, leaning back just a little.
“…I had a dream,” she admitted.
Lucian’s gaze didn’t shift.
“A rooftop,” she continued, her voice quieter now.
“Wind… and a boy standing too close to the edge.”
A brief pause.
“…And me,” she added.
Still—no interruption.
“…I told him to live for me.”
The words hung in the air.
Soft.
But heavy.
Lucian’s fingers stilled slightly against the table.
“…That sounds like something you would say,” he replied.
Isolde looked at him again.
“…I don’t remember saying it.”
Another pause.
“…But it felt like me.”
Lucian didn’t respond right away.
And for the first time—
There was something quieter in his silence.
Not distance.
Something closer.
Isolde tilted her head slightly.
“…You said something earlier too,” she went on.
“When?”
“…At the hospital.”
A small breath left her.
> “Someone once told me to find a reason to live…”
Her eyes stayed on him.
“…You didn’t finish it.”
Lucian held her gaze.
Then—
“…There was nothing else to add.”
That answer made her pause.
Because it didn’t feel complete.
“…You’re avoiding it,” she said quietly.
“I’m not."
“…Then say it.”
A beat.
The air shifted—just slightly.
Lucian didn’t look away.
But he didn’t answer either.
And somehow—
That felt louder than if he had.
Isolde exhaled softly, shaking her head just a little.
“…You always do that."
“Do what?”
“…Answer without answering.”
A faint shift touched his expression again—
Barely there.
“…And you always ask questions you already know the answer to.”
That made her blink.
“…Do I?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Isolde looked at him for a moment longer—
Then let out a quiet breath.
“…Maybe.”
Silence returned.
But it wasn’t tense.
Not like before.
More… steady.
She picked up her glass, taking a small sip before setting it down again.
“…You still look tired,” she said after a moment.
Lucian didn’t respond immediately.
“…You said you were resting.”
“Yes.”
“…This doesn’t count.”
“It does.”
Isolde gave him a look.
“…You’re stubborn.”
“Yes.”
A small, almost reluctant smile touched her lips.
“…As your nurse,” she said lightly,
“I’d say you need proper rest. Sleep. Food. Less work.”
“No.”
That made her exhale softly again.
“…You’re a difficult patient.”
Lucian’s gaze remained on her.
“…And you’re persistent.”
A pause.
“…Comes with the job,” she replied.
Another silence followed—
But this one felt… different.
Easier.
And then—
“You always talk like that when you’re thinking too much.”
The words came out calmly.
Naturally.
Too naturally.
Isolde stilled.
Her eyes lifted to him slowly.
“…Like what?”
Lucian paused.
Just slightly.
Then—
“…Carefully.”
A beat.
But it was too late.
She had already noticed.
Her gaze didn’t leave his.
“…You said always,” she said quietly.
Lucian didn’t respond.
The silence stretched—
But this time—
It wasn’t empty.
It confirmed everything.
Isolde’s fingers tightened slightly against the table.
“…You remember,” she said softly.
No doubt this time.
No hesitation.
Just truth.
Lucian held her gaze.
And this time—
He didn’t deny it.
The distance between past and present
Had quietly disappeared.
Not all at once.
Not loudly.
But enough.
Because now—
They were no longer standing on opposite sides of a forgotten moment.
They were standing in it.
Together.
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- Writer
