The silence that followed the conversation was not empty.
It was heavy.
Thick.
Like the house itself had absorbed every word and was now holding them close, afraid to let them escape.
Juliette remained seated long after Cassian stopped speaking.
Her chest still rose unevenly, the echo of her sobs lingering inside her ribs. Crying while sick had drained what little strength she had left, and now her body felt fragile like it might fold in on itself if she moved too quickly.
Cassian stood a few steps away.
Not close enough to overwhelm her.
Not far enough to abandon her.
For once, he didn't know where to place himself.
She looked smaller like this. Curled inward. Quiet again not because she was shutting him out, but because she had poured out too much at once and had nothing left to give.
The image unsettled him.
Moments ago, she had been crying in his arms.
Her tears had soaked into his shirt, warm and trembling, and something inside him had shifted so violently it scared him. He had held her without thinking, instinctively, as though his body had recognized her pain before his mind did.
And when she cried
God.
He never wanted to see that again.
Her tears hadn't been dramatic or loud. They were the kind that slipped down silently, carrying months of swallowed hurt. The kind that came from a place too deep for words.
Cassian clenched his hands at his sides.
"I'll… give you some space," he said quietly.
It wasn't dismissal.
It was restraint.
Juliette nodded, barely lifting her eyes.
"Thank you."
Her voice was hoarse.
He lingered another second long enough to make sure she was steady then turned and walked away.
Not because he didn't care.
But because he cared enough not to crowd her.
......…
Juliette
The door to her room closed softly behind her.
And that was when the strength finally left her.
Juliette sank onto the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping, her body giving in to the exhaustion she had been holding back since the moment she woke up.
Everything hurt.
Her head throbbed.
Her chest felt tight.
Her limbs were heavy.
But none of it compared to the ache inside her heart.
She lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling, breathing shallowly.
He doesn't want the silence anymore.
The words replayed over and over in her mind.
She should have felt relieved.
She should have felt hopeful.
Instead, fear crept in quietly, wrapping itself around her thoughts.
Why now?
Why did it take an accident?
Why did it take the thought of losing me?
Her throat tightened again.
She turned her face to the side, pressing it into the pillow, trying to calm herself before the tears returned.
She had survived the silence.
That was the cruel part.
She had learned how to live beside him without asking questions.
How to eat alone without complaining.
How to exist quietly in a house that never felt like hers.
She had told herself that this was what safety looked like.
And now
Now he was offering more.
Hope was far more dangerous than emptiness.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
What if he changes his mind?
What if this is just guilt?
What if I start hoping and it breaks me all over again?
Her chest ached.
She had given so much of herself already without asking for anything in return. The thought of opening that part of her heart again terrified her.
Her body suddenly protested a wave of dizziness washed over her, followed by a sharp ache in her head.
Juliette groaned softly and curled onto her side.
I shouldn't have cried so much, she thought weakly.
Being sick made everything worse.
Her emotions felt louder. Her body felt more fragile. Even breathing felt heavier.
She closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come.
It didn't.
Reality Knocks
A sudden thought struck her like a slap.
My phone.
Juliette's eyes flew open.
Her heart skipped.
She pushed herself upright, ignoring the dizziness, and looked around the room.
The bedside table.
Empty.
The chair.
Nothing.
Her breath quickened.
She stood, swaying slightly, and searched through her bag.
Still nothing.
Panic rose sharply in her chest.
Her mother.
God her mother must be frantic by now.
Juliette hadn't called.
Hadn't texted.
Had disappeared without explanation.
And her work
Deadlines.
Messages.
People wondering where she had gone.
Her world didn't pause just because she was hurt.
Her hands trembled.
She hadn't even realized how long she'd been disconnected from everyone but him.
The realization stung.
She sat back down slowly, pressing a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing.
After a moment of hesitation, she stood again.
She didn't want to ask him.
She hated that part of herself the part that still felt like she had to be careful not to take up too much space.
But she needed her phone.
She stepped out of the room.
Cassian
Cassian noticed immediately.
The way she hovered at the doorway.
The tension in her shoulders.
The faint panic in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked gently.
Juliette swallowed.
"I… I can't find my phone."
That was all she said.
But he heard everything else in her voice.
He straightened at once.
"It's okay," he said calmly. "We'll find it."
She nodded, still anxious.
"It might still be at the hospital," he continued. "Or with the staff who handled your things."
He didn't hesitate.
He picked up his own phone and made the call immediately.
Juliette watched him from a distance.
Watched how focused he was.
How serious.
How quickly he took responsibility.
This wasn't performative kindness.
This was action.
Something inside her loosened slightly.
Cassian ended the call and looked at her.
"They're checking now. I'll have it brought here as soon as it's located."
Relief washed over her face quick and unguarded before she could stop it.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He nodded.
"You should rest."
She hesitated, then turned back toward her room.
Two Thoughts, One House
As Juliette lay back down, her thoughts churned quietly.
Nothing had been fixed.
She was still afraid.
Still unsure.
Still wounded.
But something had shifted.
The silence no longer felt permanent.
And in another part of the house, Cassian stood alone, staring at nothing.
He thought about how easily she had disappeared from her own life.
How much she had been carrying without a word.
How close he had come to losing her without ever truly knowing her.
If he wanted a place in her life
He would have to earn it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Without silence.