~What Silence Does
Noah did not return.
Morning passed. Then afternoon.
Freya waited anyway.
She waited by the window, by the corridor where she had first seen him, by the terrace door she wasn't supposed to open. Every footstep made her look up. Every voice that wasn't his made something inside her sink a little deeper.
By evening, waiting started to hurt.
Gargi noticed.
"Are you expecting someone?" she asked gently while adjusting the blanket around Freya.
Freya shook her head too quickly.
"No."
The lie that fooled no one.
That night, the hospital felt larger. Colder. As if something essential had been removed and no one had bothered to replace it.
Freya couldn't sleep.
Grace's words returned, slow and cruel.
Love is not always about staying.
Sometimes your presence becomes the wound.
She stared into the darkness, whispering,
"What does that even mean?"
Her chest ached—not the sharp pain the doctors warned her about, but something duller. Heavier. Like loss arriving before its time.
Noah stood far from the hospital.
Too far.
Rain soaked through his coat as the city blurred below him. He didn't move. He didn't feel cold. He didn't feel anything—or at least that's what he told himself.
Distance was easy.
Distance was safe.
He muttered into the rain,
"I'm doing the right thing."
But Freya's voice followed him relentlessly.
I choose you.
His jaw tightened.
Streetlights flickered suddenly, shadows twisting unnaturally as power stirred beneath his skin. Noah inhaled sharply, forcing it back down.
This was new.
Unstable.
Grace had warned him.
He scoffed bitterly.
"I don't feel anything."
But the lie didn't hold as well as before.
Two days later, Freya's condition worsened.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
Enough to notice the looks exchanged between nurses. The softer voices. The extra care in their hands.
Still no Noah.
That night, despite the pain, Freya sat up in bed, staring at the door.
Her voice broke as she whispered,
"If you're avoiding me… at least tell me why."
Silence answered.
Tears slipped down her cheeks—quiet, angry tears. She wiped them away roughly and said under her breath,
"Fine. Be a mystery."
Her voice trembled.
"I'm tired of chasing people who leave🙃."
The machines continued their steady rhythm, indifferent.
Above it all, Grace watched.
This was the cost.
Distance wasn't punishment. It was protection. And yet, even she felt the weight of what she had set in motion.
She murmured softly, "She will break."
A pause.
And so will he.
Balance demanded suffering before mercy.
And neither Noah nor Freya knew yet which one of them would survive it.💗