The Break in the Quiet
It was just after 8 p.m. when Elena decided she couldn't take it anymore.
Not the silence—she could handle that.
It was the space the silence had created.
That weird emptiness that started to wrap around her evenings like a fog. Her days were still full—classes, rehearsals, rushed coffees, hallway chats—but something was missing underneath it all. Something like balance. Something like him.
She sat on her bed with her knees tucked up, her hair half tied and unraveling. Her phone lay screen-up beside her, untouched for the last hour, notifications piling in—none of them from the name she wanted to see.
She wasn't angry. She wasn't sad. But she felt… off.
Like someone had moved a picture frame on the wall just slightly crooked.
She picked up her phone and opened their thread. The last message was from him, still sitting there.
| Proud of the patient. And you.| Told you you'd be fine.
She read it again.
It still made her chest tighten a little.
Not because of what it said. But because of what it didn't.
She stared at the screen for a while, then did something she hadn't done yet.
She tapped the call icon.
Alexander had just sat down on his balcony with a warm can of ginger ale and the sound of passing cars humming like background static. He wasn't expecting anyone.
Especially not her.
His phone vibrated once, screen lighting up with her name.
For half a second, he just stared at it.Felt everything in his chest jolt into motion.
Then he answered.
"Hey," he said, voice low but even.
There was a pause on the other end.
Then: "Hey."
Her voice was soft. Not shaky. Not uncertain. Just… Elena.
He waited, let her speak first.
"I didn't mean to call," she said. "Well—I did, but not, like… dramatically."
He leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Wasn't dramatic."
"Good," she said, a quiet smile in her voice. "I just… realized we haven't talked. And I missed it."
He didn't speak immediately.
But his silence said a lot.
"Sorry," she added gently. "I know you're probably busy."
"I'm not," he said. "I was just sitting here. Thinking."
Another pause.
She let the silence stretch for just a moment. Then:
"About what?"
He hesitated, then said it plainly. "You."
That stilled her.
"Oh."
"You don't have to say anything back," he said quickly. "I'm not trying to make this weird."
"No," she replied. "It's not weird. I think I was thinking about you, too."
That pulled something out of him—a breath, maybe. A tension he hadn't noticed easing.
They didn't rush into a conversation. Just let it unfold, slow and natural.
"How's the Civic?" he asked eventually, and her laughter came like a warm wind through the phone.
"Naomi buried her in the auto lot. New car shopping begins Monday."
"May she rest in junkyard peace."
Elena smiled into the quiet.
"I missed this," she admitted.
"Me too," he said.
"But I don't want to make it a thing," she added, like she was stepping carefully. "I don't even really know what this is."
"I don't either," Alexander said. "But I know I like it."
That landed heavier than it sounded.
Not a confession.
Just truth.
And she liked that about him—that even when he said almost nothing, it somehow felt more than most people's everything.
They stayed on the phone another thirty minutes.
Talked about nothing and everything. Her rehearsal schedule. A professor who wouldn't stop saying "vis-à-vis." His latest car project. The burrito he regretted eating the night before.
Nothing intense.
But all of it real.
By the time they hung up, Elena was smiling. Not because anything had changed.
But because it finally felt like they could breathe again.