silence in the air

Chapter 4: silence in the air

The silence lingered between them like a heavy fog,

suffocating any chance of comfort. Jane ate slowly, her fork scraping against

the plate with each deliberate motion. She could feel the man's eyes on her, unwavering,

assessing her as though he was waiting for something—anything—from her. His

gaze was steady, unblinking, like he was trying to see through her, into the

depths of who she really was.

Finally, the tension broke when Jane spoke, her voice quiet

but steady. "Thanks," she said, almost hesitantly, as though testing the

waters.

 The man's eyes flicked up, surprised, as if he hadn't

expected her to speak first. "For what?" he asked, his tone almost playful,

though there was something else behind it—something guarded.

 Jane shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling the weight

of her words. "For… for saving me, I guess," she said, her voice barely above a

whisper.

 He blinked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment.

"I almost killed you," he said bluntly. The words hung in the air, sharp and

unforgiving, the reminder of the accident making Jane's stomach twist.

 Before she could respond, Jane felt the need to speak up, to

set the record straight. She couldn't let the man's words go unchallenged. "But

you didn't," she cut in, her voice a little stronger than before. "You brought

me to your house instead of leaving me on the streets. You didn't just drive

off like so many people would have."

 The man's lips twitched, his expression softening ever so

slightly. He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Okay, you're

welcome," he said in a quiet tone that seemed to imply something more,

something unspoken. But the moment passed, and the distance between them

remained.

 They sat in silence again, the weight of unasked questions

pressing in on both of them. The man cleared his throat, breaking the quiet.

"So… what were you doing on the streets that late at night?" he asked, his

voice casual, but his gaze was still piercing, trying to pull her into a

conversation she hadn't been ready to have.

 Jane's heart skipped a beat. The question hit her harder

than she expected. Her mind raced, unsure of how much to reveal, unsure of how

much she was willing to share. What was he hoping for? Was he genuinely curious

or just trying to pry into her life for some reason? She shifted in her seat,

her fingers nervously twisting around her fork.

 She sighed deeply, her gaze falling to the plate in front of

her. "Hmm… it's a long story," she said, her voice trailing off as she searched

for the right words. Her mind flashed back to that night, the fear, the

desperation, and the loneliness that had driven her to wander aimlessly through

the streets. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like a part of her was laid bare in

that simple admission.

 The man's eyes never wavered. He leaned slightly forward,

his voice taking on a more insistent tone. "I insist," he said, his words soft

but firm. "Tell me. I can't make sense of any of this—your situation, your

presence here. I can't just leave it like this."

 His insistence caught her off guard. She had expected him to

let it go, to offer her privacy or pretend as though he didn't care. But

instead, he pushed. She didn't know if that was comforting or unsettling. She

had nothing left to lose at this point, but still, the thought of opening up to

him left a knot in her stomach.

 Jane hesitated for a long moment, her fingers lightly

tapping against the edge of the plate. She took a deep breath. "Alright," she

said, the words coming out quietly, almost as if she had made a decision she

couldn't take back. "I'll tell you, but… I need to take a shower first." Her

voice was barely audible, but the request felt important. She had been in a

daze for so long—dirty, disheveled, and tired. She couldn't bring herself to

share her story when she felt like a shell of herself.

 The man studied her for a beat, as if considering whether to

press further. He glanced over at her, his face still unreadable, but there was

something in his eyes—maybe understanding, maybe something else—that made her

feel like he wasn't judging her.

 "Of course," he said after a pause, standing up and

gesturing toward the hallway. "The bathroom's that way," he added, his voice

surprisingly kind, though his tone remained firm.

 Jane stood, grateful for the space to gather herself. She

wasn't sure why she trusted him—why she didn't feel more threatened, more wary

of him. There was something in the way he spoke, something about the way he

treated her that made her feel… less like a stranger and more like someone he

could actually care about. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe she was just being

naïve. But in that moment, she couldn't bring herself to care.

 "Thank you," she said softly, almost shyly, as she turned

toward the hallway. The bathroom was exactly what she needed: a space to wash

away the lingering feelings of the night, to clear her mind before opening up

to him.

 As she walked down the narrow hall, the sound of her

footsteps echoing in the quiet house, she wondered what the man was thinking.

What did he want with her? Why was he so persistent in trying to understand

her? She didn't know. She only knew that for the first time in a long while,

someone was offering her a chance—an opportunity to speak, to be heard. And

maybe, just maybe, she would take it.

 She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door softly

behind her, the warmth of the water already beginning to sound like a promise

of peace.