Chapter 4 — The Silence Between Us
The next morning, Arin woke up later than usual. Sunlight spilled softly through his curtains, and for once, the noise in his head was faint — distant, like an old radio turned down low.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, the memory of the lake still fresh in his mind. The way she smiled, the way she handed him that note — it kept replaying, and he didn't mind. It was the first memory in a long time that didn't come with pain.
He reached for the folded paper on his nightstand.
Do you believe in fate?
The words felt like they were meant to stay with him — a small reminder that maybe, just maybe, life was trying to tell him something.
He dressed quickly, grabbed his jacket, and decided to take a walk before work. He wasn't sure why, but his steps led him back to the park again.
When he reached the lake, she wasn't there. For a moment, he felt an ache he couldn't explain — an emptiness that reminded him how much her presence mattered already.
He sat down on the same bench, staring at the water. A soft wind passed, carrying ripples across the surface. The world felt quiet again, but not the kind of quiet he liked. This one felt… lonely.
After a few minutes, he heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned — and there she was. Maya.
Her hair was tied up again, a small notepad in her hand. She waved shyly, and he felt his chest relax.
"You're late," he teased, smiling.
She grinned, scribbled quickly, and held up her note:
> "You came early."
He laughed. "Guilty."
She sat beside him, pulling out a small paper bag and handing it over. Inside were two sandwiches — wrapped neatly, with her handwriting on a sticky note that said:
> "Breakfast."
"You made these?" he asked, surprised.
She nodded.
He took a bite and smiled. "You're going to ruin every café in the city if you keep this up."
She laughed silently, shoulders shaking, eyes lighting up in the morning sun.
For a while, they ate quietly, the only sounds being birds and the distant hum of traffic. Arin realized something strange again — the moment she arrived, the mental noise around him faded. Even the stray thoughts of people walking nearby grew softer, almost like the world respected her silence.
He didn't tell her, of course. How could he? She'd think he was crazy. But deep down, he wondered if there was a reason their connection felt almost… supernatural.
After breakfast, Maya started sketching again. Arin leaned closer, watching her pencil glide across the page. This time, she was drawing a pair of hands — one reaching out, the other hesitating to take it.
He stared at it quietly, something in his chest tightening. "That's beautiful," he whispered.
She looked at him and wrote:
> "It's about trust."
He nodded slowly. "Do you think trust needs words?"
She paused, then wrote carefully:
> "No. You feel it."
That line stayed with him long after she left.
---
That evening, he returned to his apartment and sat by the window. Seattle's skyline glowed in the distance, city lights flickering like stars. He thought about her — how her silence wasn't empty but full of meaning.
He tried to imagine her voice — what it would sound like if she could speak. Would it be soft? Would it tremble when she laughed? He didn't know, and somehow, he didn't need to. Her eyes spoke enough.
As the night deepened, he lay down, but sleep didn't come easily. The faint whispers of people outside — neighbors, cars, footsteps — began to creep into his mind again.
He closed his eyes, wishing for silence.
Then, out of nowhere, he felt something. Not a sound — a feeling.
A warmth, a calmness. The same kind he felt when she was near.
He sat up, startled. "Maya?" he whispered to himself.
It made no sense. She was probably miles away. But somehow, her presence lingered — like her silence reached him through the noise.
He took a deep breath and smiled faintly. Maybe this was what peace felt like.
---
The next day, he saw her again at the coffee shop. He hadn't told her where he worked — she must have just stumbled in by chance.
She looked surprised at first, then smiled and waved. He froze for a moment, then smiled back.
When she came to the counter, she pulled out her notebook and wrote:
> "So this is where you hide."
He laughed. "You make it sound like I'm running from the world."
She tilted her head playfully and wrote:
> "Aren't you?"
He looked down at the counter, caught off guard. "Maybe I was. Not anymore, though."
She smiled softly, her eyes saying more than words could.
After she left, his coworker nudged him. "She's cute. You two dating?"
Arin chuckled, shaking his head. "It's not like that."
But inside, he knew it was slowly becoming exactly that.
---
That night, as he walked home, the city lights flickering on wet pavement, Arin thought about how strange life could be. One small accident — one quiet girl — had changed everything.
He didn't know where it was all going, but for the first time in years, he wasn't afraid of what came next.
When he reached home, he unfolded the paper she'd given him days ago.
Do you believe in fate?
He smiled to himself and whispered into the quiet room,
"Yes, Maya. I think I finally do."