Elie stood in the emptied space for several minutes, replaying what had just happened. Out of everything the evening had thrown at him, this-this-cut the deepest. A sharp, unfamiliar edge he couldn't quite get his fingers around.
Was it panic?
Fear?
Or something simpler-curiosity gawking at the why?
Almost instinctively, his mind checked his body. His legs were steady. His shoulders squared. His posture still held, solid as a concrete wall. Nothing outward had shifted. And yet something inside him had.
For a moment, he considered going after her-asking why she'd said that, what she'd meant. The thought rose quickly, then died just as fast. Something about her told him not to. Not fear exactly-something quieter. More deliberate.
The way she'd walked away lingered with him. It hadn't been hurried or dismissive, not the kind of retreat meant to shut a door. It was the same unremarkable pace she'd carried all evening, as if nothing of significance had passed between them.
That was always the thing with her.
Since the moment he'd noticed her, there had been something in her posture-her stillness, her restraint-that spoke louder than words ever could. As if her body knew things her mouth refused to share.
The vibration of his phone snapped him back to the room.
Reality rushed in, abrupt and unwelcome.
He swiped away three pointless notifications before finally focusing on the message that remained.
Glowing (Lil Sis)
Lily. His sister. One line glowed on the screen:"(Mom wants to meet...)"
The three dots pulsed beneath it, promising more.
He didn't open it.
For reasons he didn't fully understand, he didn't want to. Somewhere deep inside, a faint voice protested-it's enough for one day, give me a rest.
He stepped forward, harder than necessary, as if committing himself to motion alone. To leaving. To not standing there any longer, whatever the cost.
The urge to use the restroom-so insistent just minutes ago-had vanished completely. It didn't even register as he moved through the exit and toward his car.
Was it the message?
Or was it her?
He couldn't tell.
The rest unfolded on autopilot.
Keys in hand without remembering reaching for them. The drive home passing in fragments-red lights, familiar turns, streetlamps sliding across the windshield. The elevator ride up, silent. Shoes kicked off near the door. His apartment greeting him with the same stillness it always had.
Only when the door clicked shut behind him did the weight of the day finally settle.
And even then, her words stayed with him.
Unmoved.
Unanswered.
Elie didn't feel like doing anything-no freshening up, no changing into night clothes, no straightening the room, not even responding to Lily, which was usually a quiet ritual they never missed. Tonight, he wanted none of it. He just wanted to lie there in silence, to give his mind a rest-a much-needed rest-from the sharp spikes of emotion the night had carved into him.
He did the bare minimum. Kicked off his shoes. Shrugged out of his shirt, stepped out of his pants, took a leak and went straight to the bed. No hesitation. No second thought. It was a rare sight-Elie surrendering to stillness this quickly. His body was visibly tired, yet sleep refused to come, just like the night before but it was different. His mind kept running, restless, as if it wanted to stop but something unseen kept chasing it forward.
And then, almost quietly, the reason surfaced.
The tangled impressions came back-fragrance, voice and the way she walked away and the question that followed it all.
Why?
Had he been caught looking at her throughout the party? Was that what the warning meant? Was it her way of telling him-politely, firmly-that it was rude?
It was the only explanation that made sense to him. And with it came a dull pang of guilt, followed by shame. He had always thought of himself as decent. Not a saint-but someone who knew boundaries. When to step forward, when to step back. When to stop.
"What was her name?" A realization came through all of a sudden outta nowhere cutting his thoughts.
He had only known her as Mrs. Hales all evening. Nothing more. No first name to attach to the way she unsettled him so effortlessly. And almost immediately, another voice followed-dismissive, firm.
No.
If that was her way of telling him off-of drawing a line-then he shouldn't push it further. Some things were better left untouched.
Sleep finally forced its way in, settling between those broken trains of thought, pulling him under before he could resist.
His mother. The message. It didn't cross his mind even once. On any other night, it would have lingered, stirred curiosity, maybe even worry. He didn't blame her for everything-not entirely, not the way his sister sometimes did-but tonight was different.
Tonight was peculiar.
Everything had simply arrived at the wrong moment.
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