CHAPTER 13: Unspoken

Some truths don't need to be spoken. But silence? Silence can scream.

⸻

The sun crept into Sienna's bedroom like it didn't care about her exhaustion.

She hadn't slept more than three hours. Again.

She'd tried — lavender spray, warm tea, scrolling through Pinterest boards labeled "Motivated Girlboss Energy" — but none of it worked.

Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his mouth on hers again.

Felt his fingers in her hair.

Heard her own breathless gasp when he'd pulled away and whispered, "Go home, Sienna," like her presence was killing him.

Now, she stared at her closet like it had answers. She pulled on the most neutral outfit she owned. No red. No silk. No statement jewelry. Nothing that might whisper temptation.

If she was going to be ignored, she wanted to be invisible on purpose.

⸻

The office lobby smelled like pine cleaner and fake confidence.

She kept her head high as she walked in, even though every nerve in her body was curled up like a fist. Her heels echoed across the marble like they were mocking her — too confident for someone drowning in confusion.

At her desk, everything was just as she'd left it.

Her half-used pen. Her perfectly stacked folders. The small coffee stain on her mousepad she never got around to cleaning.

It was absurd, how normal everything was.

As if her entire world hadn't tilted four nights ago in the middle of Julian's office — with one kiss that felt like everything and one silence that followed like a curse.

⸻

By 9:00 a.m., it became clear that Julian was avoiding her again.

He didn't CC her on the client reply she drafted the night before.

Didn't come to the Monday morning strategy brief — the one he always led.

Didn't reply to the message she'd dared to send:

"Client 314's PR clause needs your review. Can I get 5 minutes today?"

No reply.

Not even a "Noted."

He was ghosting her… from ten feet away.

His door was closed. Blinds down. A fortress of polished glass and avoidance.

She stared at it too long.

Tom from IT passed and gave her a weird look.

She turned away and opened a spreadsheet she didn't care about.

⸻

At 10:07 a.m., the elevator dinged.

She didn't look up.

She felt him.

Julian's presence had a gravitational pull. It always had.

She dared a glance as he stepped out of the elevator. His stride was even. Measured. Impeccably dressed, like always. But there was something off.

His tie was slightly loose. His shirt collar unbuttoned at the top — something he never did during office hours.

Their eyes met.

It was electric. Painful. Raw.

Then — his expression shuttered.

He nodded, faintly, like a stranger who only vaguely recognized her.

And walked away.

Like she hadn't once kissed him like she meant it.

Like she hadn't once seen him come undone in front of her.

She stared at his retreating back and wished she could hate him.

But all she felt was hollow.

⸻

"Two sugars. And a gallon of honesty," Ella said, setting down the coffee like it was medicine.

Sienna offered her a tired smile.

Ella leaned on the desk and spoke quietly. "I can feel the tension from the damn lobby."

"It's fine," Sienna murmured, typing nonsense into a document she wasn't actually editing.

"It's not fine. You haven't blinked in ten minutes and you just typed the word help into the middle of a budget line."

Sienna sighed and leaned back. "I'm not… okay."

Ella softened instantly. "Want to tell me?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Start with what happened."

Sienna looked at her hands.

"He kissed me. Then panicked. Then shut me out."

"Was it… just a kiss?"

She shook her head. "It felt like more."

Ella nodded slowly. "He's not ignoring you because he doesn't care."

"Then why?"

"Because he does care. And that makes him dangerous. Especially to himself."

⸻

At 3:00 p.m., the temperature in the office dropped ten degrees.

Not physically. Psychologically.

Because Lana walked in.

She didn't belong there that day. No meetings. No notice.

But she arrived like she owned the oxygen.

Red lipstick. Flawless curls. Confidence sharpened like a blade.

And Julian?

He stepped out of his office the moment she entered.

He walked toward her like the world was watching.

Sienna sat frozen at her desk, watching from behind her monitor like a coward.

Julian didn't glance her way.

Not even for a second.

He placed a guiding hand on Lana's back — the same gesture he once used on Sienna when guiding her into that same office.

That door.

That kiss.

Now, it was closed. And the blinds were drawn. And Sienna sat there, blinking too fast, trying not to unravel in plain sight.

⸻

She worked late that night.

Mostly because she couldn't bear the thought of running into them in the parking lot.

Her brain was mush. Her heart ached. And she couldn't decide if she was furious at him or at herself.

Maybe both.

At 7:00 p.m., she finally packed up.

As she reached the elevator, she heard footsteps behind her.

She already knew.

Julian.

He stopped beside her.

Close.

Too close.

She didn't turn her head.

Neither did he.

The silence stretched between them like elastic. So fragile. So full of everything they weren't saying.

"I thought you left," she finally said, without looking at him.

A beat.

"I had a meeting," he said.

Of course he did.

The elevator arrived. They stepped in.

Silence.

He didn't even look at her.

She stared at the floor.

When the doors opened at the lobby, she walked out first.

Julian stayed behind.

Like always.

⸻

That night, she lay on her couch in the dark.

Still in her work clothes. Makeup smudged. Heart sore.

She didn't cry.

She didn't have the energy.

She opened her phone. Scrolled to his name.

She could've texted.

Could've said something reckless.

But she didn't.

Instead, she whispered the truth into the quiet:

"I miss you."

And the silence answered back.