The Sound of Silence
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The knock came at 6:03 a.m.
Not a second early, not a second late.
Soft. Steady. Familiar.
Elena didn't move at first. She lay still under the blanket, hand resting on her barely visible bump, heart beating in rhythm with the silence that filled her apartment.
She already knew who it was. She always knew.
By the time she stepped into the hallway, the knock had stopped. The door creaked slightly, as if someone had leaned on it a second too long.
She opened it to find the same thing as every morning for the last week—a brown paper bag. No name. No note. But warm. Always warm.
And always filled with exactly what she'd been craving.
Today it was toast with soft-boiled eggs, strawberries, and that obscure French yogurt brand she didn't even know was sold here.
Her chest tightened.
He still knew her.
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She didn't talk about it with anyone—not the morning meals, not the soft sounds at her window at night, not the bouquet of blood-red roses that had been placed inside her backpack last Thursday without anyone noticing.
She didn't need to.
Because even though Luca wasn't speaking… he was still everywhere.
His silence was louder than ever.
She hadn't seen him—really seen him—since the night of the party.
But the signs were there. The shadows. The stillness that lingered outside her building. The way lights flickered just before she entered her bedroom. The silent figure walking two steps behind when she dared to take the long way home.
And now this... breakfast every morning, like he was easing himself back into her life piece by piece.
Or reminding her that he never left.
She never dared throw the food away. She always ate it, slowly, reverently, like it was sacred. And part of her wondered if he was watching. If he stood somewhere near, hidden behind glass, breathing in her silence like a promise.
She didn't fear it anymore.
That was the terrifying part.
---
Elena stood in front of the campus clinic that afternoon, staring at the entrance for too long.
Antenatal registration. She'd written it into her schedule four times already, circled it twice. And yet, every time she got this close, her legs refused to carry her in.
What if someone she knew worked there? What if Liam saw her file?
What if someone told Luca?
She shook her head.
No. He wouldn't be told. He would know.
Just like he always knew everything.
She stepped inside, heartbeat wild, head down. A nurse gave her a clipboard. She filled in the form with trembling hands, skipping the space for the father's name.
There was no need.
By the time she finished, she felt lighter. And lonelier.
Like confirming it on paper made it even more real… and more terrifying.
The nurse told her she was about 12 weeks. Almost at the end of her first trimester.
Just two more months and her stomach would start to show.
Just two more months and she wouldn't be able to hide it anymore—not from her professors, not from her classmates, not from the world.
Not from him.
---
That night, her window creaked open with a whisper.
Elena froze.
She'd locked it earlier. She was sure she had.
The curtain fluttered faintly as wind touched it from inside.
But when she stood from her bed and stepped close, nothing was there.
No figure. No shadow.
Only another note on the windowsill.
The handwriting was neater this time. Slanted. Controlled.
"You're not alone."
Her fingers trembled as she held it.
He knew.
Or maybe… he felt it.
Luca always moved ahead of her. Always sensed what she hadn't spoken. The note could mean anything, or everything.
But for the first time in weeks, she didn't cry after reading it.
She just whispered into the silence, "I know."
---
Somewhere across the street, Luca watched her light flicker out.
He'd seen the way she rubbed her stomach earlier, just before drawing the curtain shut.
He saw the faint curve now forming under her loose hoodie.
He had known even before that—before the clinic appointment, before the cravings began.
He didn't need tests. He didn't need answers.
He felt her heartbeat in his own.
And tonight… her heartbeat was no longer alone.
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